


Hero of the Wild

by youworeblue



Series: Hylia's Chosen Hero [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archaeologist Zelda, BOTW Sequel, Champion's Ballad, F/M, Lomei, Thyphlo, Warrior Princess Zelda, Zonai, but healing is a process, everyone gets their hug, everyone's still sad, link is in love with his goddess, post-BOTW, shit's about to get dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 150,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youworeblue/pseuds/youworeblue
Summary: "But, Princess... do you remember me?"--From the moment Link woke in the Shrine of Resurrection, one thing was clear: he had a destiny to fulfill. Now, the Calamity has fallen, and the Hero has finally reunited with his beloved Goddess. But while Link has gone great lengths to recall his past lives and grapple with the Curse of Demise, Zelda has only just begun.Post-BOTW. This will be long. It would probably be helpful for you to read "When the Wind Whispers" to understand the lore I've woven behind the Champion's Ballad.7/6/19: Having appeased Vah Naboris and Vah Ruta, Link and Zelda head to Hyrule Castle to witness the restoration efforts and gather more information about the Forgotten Temple and the ancient tribes.Mature/Explicit for sexy times and trauma.





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of my BOTW novelization, When the Wind Whispers. There's a lot of background lore I expanded upon in WWW that I'll be referencing here.
> 
> Thanks for following Link on his journey. R&R!

His voice was broken from shouting at the Demon, from cursing it to Hell and back, from taunting it when it fell. “Of course,” he croaked. “I remember all of you.”

He drew the Master Sword, which glowed in the presence of both its creator and its master. Though his grip was slick with blood, he grasped it tightly and slowly fell to one knee. Her smile was something he had died for a thousand times, and it made the mud and the blood and the nightmares worth it. That smile broke across her face now like the sun from behind clouds.

The wind shifted. Flecks of golden, divine light still dripped from her hair and drifted toward him on the breeze, and he looked up into her face with clear, ancient eyes.

“But Princess… Do you remember me?”


	2. The Night the World Did Not End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R! Things will pick up.

His question took her completely by surprise. “What do you mean?” she asked softly. “Of course I remember you, Link.”

He tried—he tried so hard to keep his face straight, but he couldn’t. He was so tired, and all he wanted was to fall into the arms of someone who loved him. But Zelda did not remember the Hero; she only remembered her Champion. Perhaps she did not remember being the Goddess, either.

Link bowed his head against the pommel of his sword and tried to hold back his tears.

“Link? What’s wrong?” Zelda’s frightened voice only drove the knife deeper into his heart. “You’re injured…” Her hands settled on his shoulders, and she knelt in the scorched earth beside him.

He shook his head. Tears dripped from the tip of his nose and splattered on the grass at the tip of the Master Sword. Fi thrummed in his hand, but he could not hear her voice over the roar of solitude and grief in his heart. He shook his head again in an attempt to clear his ringing ears.

 _Focus,_ he told himself.

“We need to go,” he said through heavy, steadying breaths.

Zelda was silent; her hands slipped from his shoulders and into her lap. The loss of her touch hurt more than any blade but Link forced himself to stand again in spite of the pain. Tears still dripped down his face, but he would not allow himself to despair. Not now, not after everything he had been through.

He looked at the princess, his voice having fled him once more, but she nodded. He helped her into the saddle and hoisted himself up behind her. He kept his injured arm away from her dress as best he could and held on to Zelda’s waist with his right.

They journeyed in silence. He was keenly aware that she was cold and shivered in his arms, that she fit perfectly under his chin, that the princess’s green eyes periodically flicked up at him with confusion and hurt.

But who did she _see?_

 

They reached the Wetland Stable within the hour. It was not the first time he had walked off the Fields and into the stable covered in his own blood and burns, and it had earned him quite the reputation. To spare Zelda of the stares and questions, Link gave her his hood as soon as they dismounted to hide some of the mud, blood, and soot on her.

But when they entered, they found that the stable was nearly empty. _Thank the Goddesses,_ Link thought wearily. Perhaps all the turmoil in the Fields had sent everyone running.

Link left enough rupees on the counter for two soft beds, and he led Zelda to one in silence. She stood dumbly as he sorted through his pack for some sort of clothes she could change into. He handed her his Sheikah robes, Rito trousers, and a small vial of warming elixir.

She clutched the clothing to her chest, her eyes wide and locked on him. Her lips parted to speak, but she did not seem to be able to find her voice. Finally, she nodded.

He turned and drew the Master Sword. If he were being honest, it was just so have someone who could speak to him, who knew what turmoil resided in his soul. He rested Fi’s tip in the wood of the stable floor and swept his gaze continuously, imperceptibly, from entrance to entrance.

 _Master_ , Fi said softly. _You must tend to yourself. I do not know what contaminants your wounds have been exposed to. An infection left untreated—_

 _You know I will_. Link sighed imperceptibly. _There is an order to these things._

 _You are perfectly capable of doing two things at once,_ the spirit of the Sword said sharply and fell silent against his stubbornness.

Zelda’s warmth on his back told him that she was done. When he turned, he found her clad only in the Sheikah robes—the Snowquill trousers were folded in her arms, and her legs were bare. “I think I’ll just need a blanket,” she said, her eyes on the floor. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Kindness? How many times could his heart break? Certainly there was nothing left, yet her words shattered him.

“Sleep, or food?” he asked.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but still she would not look at him. “I can’t imagine food,” she whispered. “My mouth has been filled with soot and screams for a century.”

Link nearly grinned. “Stay,” he said.

But Zelda followed him. She dragged the down quilt from the soft bed with her, but what warmed Link the most was the sense that she could not be far from _him_. She joined him by the fire, completely swaddled in her quilt. Her eyes followed every one of his movements as he gathered his ingredients and prepared the soup. He took some of the thick, chewy noodles he had picked up from the Rito and added them to a broth he made from boar belly, herbs, and Goron spice. After nearly an hour of cooking, he handed a small bowl of curry to her that was mostly noodles and chunks of meat, and he handed her chopsticks.

She ignored the way he stared at her and took a unladylike slurp of the scalding-hot soup.

And she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed, or laughed, he couldn’t tell. He snatched the bowl from her before she could spill, and he knelt at her feet. “It’s so wonderful, Link. And we’re alive to taste it!”

He dared to take a corner of the blanket and wipe at her tears with it. She bent closer to him, but she did not reach for him, so he did not embrace her. Goddess knew, he wanted to.

“I know,” he said. It didn’t matter if she heard. “That’s why I love to cook, this time.”

She beamed at him through her tears, but there was a question in her eyes. He could not bear to answer her. Instead, he withdrew and prepared a bowl for himself. They finished their meals in silence. Link was surprised to find that Zelda’s appetite rivaled his own—and in fact seemed insatiable. But she had just broken a century-long fast, and she deserved to feast.

He cleaned their dishes and the cooking pot and doused the fire. “Oh, Link!” Zelda gasped suddenly, and his hand flew to the hilt of the Master Sword, but there seemed to be no danger.

His eyes flew to hers.

“You’re still hurt,” she said mournfully, “I feel so terrible for making you cook instead of taking care of yourself. Please, let me clean and bind that immediately!”

Link shook his head and reached in to his pack to put away the bowls and chopsticks and pick out a small vial of hearty elixir that he kept ready for moments such as this. He had learned long ago not to travel without a Korok leaf, and he tore an appropriate-sized patch of the one that lay at the bottom of his pack.

“What in the world—”

The princess’s eyes were wide with awe as she watched him rub a few drops of pink elixir into his dirty, dried wound, and he covered it with the Korok leaf. “It’ll be fine in a quarter hour,” he said.

“Where was that one hundred years ago?” She seemed infinitely troubled by it. They stared at each other in silence. There were too many questions to ask, too many things to say, and too few words to speak them.

They retired to the stable to sleep, but neither of them seemed capable of it. Link was exhausted, certainly; he had climbed all of Hyrule Castle, battled what felt like all four Blights at once, and then vanquished a Demon. But no soft bed could ease the weariness that settled in his bones. Perhaps the Shrine of Resurrection could restore him. Or the Goddess.

His Goddess-Incarnate lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in silence, blinking slowly and only occasionally. She had grabbed fists full of her unwashed, tangled hair and thrown it across the pillow so that it stayed away from her face. It smelled like ash and blood and evil. They both did.

While she tried to sleep, Link sat atop the covers and cleaned Fi, though he knew he needn’t; her holy light could burn away any rust, blood, or Malice that dared blemish her blade. Fi remained silent, though this time it was less out of aggravation. She simply didn’t know what to say to the bundle of nerves and confusion and ancient sorrow in his heart. Link was aware of her concern, but he did not reach out to her. He simply cleaned her and cared for her, and he watched Zelda.

After he awoke in the Shrine of Resurrection as an amnesiac, only one thing had been certain: he was destined to do battle with the Calamity. But on his journey to escape that destiny, Link had fallen in love with things that the Calamity sought to destroy. He saw beauty in the wilderness, life in the ruins of Hyrule; he had met beautiful, courageous people, good people, who wanted Hyrule to flourish. In them, he found reason to stop running from his fate. He discovered his own Courage, found Power and Wisdom within him. He learned more about the mysterious Goddess who had informed him of his destiny—the Goddess who had accompanied him through the ages…the Goddess he had loved since the beginning of time. The Goddess who loved him.

The knowledge of her love, her faith in him, had kept him going. He had turned his back on despair and clung to the idea that they would be reunited, that they would find happiness together after the end of the world. He hadn’t realized how much he’d hoped she’d remember her own past—and the many Heroes who had loved her. He hadn’t realized how crushed he would be to carry the burden of a thousand thousand lives, alone.

 _Master_ , Fi said softly. _She is not the only ancient one._

“You’re right.” Link replied in a whisper, so Zelda wouldn’t hear him talking to the Sword. “I don’t think I could be without you.” But his Sword lived for him, was created for him. His Sword was not _cursed_ like him.

Finally, the darkness outside gave way to the gray dawn. He sheathed his Sword and set his feet down on the floor of the stable. In one step—just one—he stood at Zelda’s bedside. Her green eyes slid to his face; they were somber, tired. He enjoyed how they widened when he handed her the Sheikah Slate.

“Do _not_ press Travel,” he warned her. “I can’t lose you again.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He wished he could pull them back into his throat and swallow them, so instead of waiting to see their impact, he turned quickly and went to fetch Prayer and Lanayru from the back of the stable.

If they set out this early, they stood a good chance of making it to Hateno by nightfall. That was the only goal he had, now: get to Hateno, lock the door to his house, and give his princess a taste of the only Rito-down bed outside of Tabantha.

Links ears burned as he caught himself, and he buried his face in Prayer’s shoulder. A memory of a tryst struck him, just the barest sense of heat and passion through the fog of Time. He hadn’t meant it that way, but now that the thought was there he couldn’t shake it.

He left the horses at the post outside the stable and went to the edge of the river. He splashed water on his face to help cool his cheeks and in doing so looked down at his reflection for the first time in what felt like years. He had removed his diamond circlet during the night, and with his grimy hair loose around his shoulders he looked as feral as any child of the wilderness ever had. He was encrusted in ash and blood and sweat and tears. His cheeks were less full than they had been when he awakened in the Shrine of Resurrection—not even two months previous.

Zelda was still engrossed in the new functions of the Sheikah Slate when he returned to her bedside. He had pulled the rest of the Sheikah village clothes from his sack and offered them to her now. They were the cleanest clothes he had, and, he thought, most likely to fit. He kept the hat, and he offered her his traveling hood once again.

She set down the Slate and looked from the carefully folded stack of clothes to his face. There were words on her lips but they did not take shape. She took the clothes, and once again, he turned to allow her to change.

He had chosen to wear his Hylian traveling tunic over his mail, for discretion’s sake. He tapped his fist on the counter as was his custom, though there was no one behind the counter to thank, and he lead Zelda out to the horses. As her eyes flitted from Prayer, affixed with the armor of the Royal Guard, to the exact copy of her own personal stallion in his royal dressage, Link saw a kind of panic rise up in them.

He put his hand on Lanayru’s mighty neck, though the stallion did not need calming. “I found him on Safula Hill,” he said to the horse, “and the memories you left me. The grandchild of one of your groomsmen saw him, too, and gave me this livery.”

Zelda reached for the horse’s snout with a shaking hand. Lanayru dipped his head obediently and nuzzled the princess’s palm. “What is his name?”

“Lanayru.”

He watched her face nervously; the panic he had seen before had mounted, and she curled her fingers tightly around the leather straps of Lanayru’s bridle. She looked up at Link earnestly. “Do you remember why we went to Sanidin Park before leaving for the mountain?”

When he did not reply, she lowered her gaze and did not continue.

A deep weariness settled on his shoulders and added to the weight that was already there. He would need to remember this moment, so that he could ask, someday, what he did _not_ remember. From her silent disappointment, he imagined it must be important.

He helped her into the saddle, mounted Prayer, and led them down the road.

“Where shall we go?” Zelda asked. “Where _is_ there to go?”

“Hateno is the largest Hylian settlement left. If you want to rest, you can rest there anonymously, and you’ll be safe. But Purah lives there now, and on the way we could pass through Kakariko to see Impa if you’d like.”

“Link, what do you want?”

Link kept his eyes ahead. “I would enjoy a reprieve from destiny,” he said slowly. “And I want to see you rest. I figured there was a chance that you might not want to deal with politics and rebuilding your kingdom for a few days, at least.”

Zelda sighed. “I would like to say that I want to reclaim my title immediately…but you are right, Link. Anonymity sounds nice.”

“It _is_ ,” he said with feeling. The idea of returning to Hateno, where he was known only as a traveling sword, could have put a smile on his face if he weren’t so tired. “So, we will avoid Kakariko and take the path from Dueling Peaks.”


	3. Life Found in Ruins.

As they traveled. Link could not shake the persistent feeling that things should have been different. Not only in with regard to his relationship with the Goddess-Blood Princess at his side—the world could always be less cruel, certainly. But the world should have been drastically different, now that the ultimate evil had been banished from it. The world should have changed, in some tangible way.

It hadn’t.

The day was turning out to be a beautiful one: cool and bright with a sky full of fluffy, sluggish clouds. Birds sang to one another in the trees, and a herd of wild horses wandered the fields to their west. A heavy silence fell between the travelers. Well, it fell heavily on Link’s shoulders; Zelda’s eyes were wide as she took in the remnants of her kingdom, and Link was sure she was collecting evidence and forming a list of a thousand questions to ask him later. In the meantime, he replayed the events of the last day on endless repeat in his mind and tried to figure out what he could have said, should have said, that would have avoided this uneasy rapport that had risen between them.

Though deep in thought, Link kept careful watch of the road ahead and the woods around them. They crossed the Eagus and Owlan Bridges without incident; it seemed that the ‘fos and ‘bins had felt the tide turn against the darkness, and they ran for cover whenever Link managed to see one scuffling around in the distance. When they reached the East Post Ruins, Link gestured for Zelda to wait a moment; he wanted to be sure there were no enemies lying in wait for them—but he knew there wouldn’t be.

He summoned Revali’s Gale from deep within him and shot into the sky.

He heard Zelda gasp, but the horses remained unimpressed and disinterested. As he hung suspended high in the air by his paraglider, he scoured the ruins and surrounding woods for any sign of the troupe that had laid claim to the area, but it seemed they had forfeited it and retreated back to a less open space.

He snapped the glider closed, plummeted to the earth, and caught himself right before landing.

Zelda’s curiosity exploded out of her the moment his feet touched the ground. “How in the world did you do that? There was no wind—” Link couldn’t keep track of how many questions she asked, and he was pretty sure she answered most of them herself as soon as she had asked them. He stared up at her from the ground, a wide smile on his face; he had been waiting for her scholarly side to reappear, and he took it as a sign that she was starting to acclimate to freedom once more. He had to curl his fingers to resist the urge to scale Lanayru’s side to kiss her silent.

Though he did not raise his voice, her chattering ceased the moment he spoke. “The Champions each gave me their blessing,” he said. “And your father granted me his paraglider when I woke on the Great Plateau."

“My father?” Zelda turned her head to the distant cliffs of the Plateau. “And the Champions?"

There was a distant note in her voice, a tinge of agony within her confusion. Link reached out to put a hand on her boot. “Princess, I don’t want to overwhelm you. There’s a lot to tell you—but we have a lot of time.”

She shook herself a little and drew herself up in the saddle. “You are correct,” she said. “It will take us at least the rest of the day, if not longer, to reach Hateno from here. I think that should be plenty of time to explain everything.”

She nudged Lanayru into a trot before Link could formulate a reply. He hurried to catch up, but when Prayer drew abreast of Lanayru, Zelda kept her eyes dead ahead. Despite her prim facade, it was clear from how her ears twitched that she listened keenly for whatever he was about to say.

But he didn’t know where to begin. He wanted to tell her of her father and of her father’s regret. He wanted to reach into his pack and give her her father’s journals, but she would undoubtedly want to stop riding right then and there so she could pour over them. And he wanted to tell her of the Champions, but he did not know what she would want to know first.

“So, after Impa told me to free the Divine Beasts, I traveled to Tabantha…”

Link found himself pausing often as he decided what he could explain easily and what would take him longer. He did not mention Kass—he was certain Zelda would have questions about the bard—but he spoke of Teba and their aerial battle. “The moment I set foot on Medoh, Revali’s spirit called out to me… Wouldn’t you know, even in a hundred years, he couldn’t learn how to be polite.”

Zelda scoffed. “He only ever had a problem with you,” she pointed out.

Link shrugged. “I think it helped that I was a blank slate, but after I returned Medoh to his control, I guess he liked me enough to give me his blessing. Each of the Champions did the same, after I defeated the blights Ganon had sent to kill them one hundred years ago. I carry a part of them with me, now: Revali’s Gale, Mipha’s Healing Grace, Urbosa’s Fury, Daruk’s Protection.”

Link closed his eyes briefly and felt out the shape of them in his spirit. He was glad these gifts had remained, though he imagined that, by now, his friends had left this plane for the next.

He wondered what would happen to the Divine Beasts, without their pilots.

“That…that is so wonderful, Link,” Zelda said. Her voice was tight with emotion. “I could not hear them for one hundred years—and then, just when I thought I was too weak to continue, they spoke to me, one by one. Ganon had kept them from me, and when you freed them, they helped me keep him at bay…just long enough.”

Link looked over at his princess to find her gazing out at the distant figure of Medoh, the only Divine Beast visible from their current position. It had gone dark since its attack on the Calamity. No tracking beam came from its beak; no light, red or blue or amber, came from its inner workings.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” Link said softly.

Zelda’s eyes finally met his, and she offered him a small smile. “I knew you would come when I needed you,” she replied. “You always seem to.”

Her words warmed his heart, but what should have felt like an unadulterated joy was instead tempered with doubt. He wanted to ask her what the past century had been like for her, but he was afraid to know the answer. His Goddess had spoken to him so often, had braced him after battles and given him strength and stamina for his journey—but did she remember that, now? Was this his Goddess, or was she locked away, somewhere deep inside Zelda—someone he might consider a separate person? How would that change things between them?

Link forced himself to push those feelings away for now. There was nothing between them. Not now.

“In any regards, I should be the one to apologize,” she said suddenly. He looked at her sharply, a rebuke already bubbling up in his mouth, but she hurried on. “I should have left all of the photos on the Slate. I should have left better instructions with Impa, left more guidance for you. Or maybe I—”

Zelda’s voice broke, and Link saw tears break past her desperately closed eyes.

He leaned out of the saddle to catch Lanayru’s reigns and stopped the horses in the road. “Princess, what are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I should have left you nothing and given you a choice!” Her words were shrill, nearly a scream to the heavens. Her angry, heartbroken tears came so heavily that she could not open her eyes, and her words were punctuated by sobs. It took him a moment to realize what she was trying to say, but the moment he pieced it together, he dismounted and pulled her from the saddle, too. She could hardly stand on her own, and she fisted her hands in his tunic to stay grounded. The sobs that wracked her body were so soul-wrenching, Link was afraid that she might shake herself apart. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, held her as close as he could, and tried to keep her together.

“I had a choice, Princess,” he said into her hair; he tried to keep his voice firm and leave no room for her to argue. “I chose you.”

He held her until her tears ran dry, but he did not let go of her immediately. The warmth of her body had seeped into him, and he had been so deprived of physical, human connection that he was loathe to end this moment, for fear it might be the last. He couldn’t remember if all embraces were as wonderful as this, or perhaps it was that Zelda radiated divine warmth and love like the sun.

He carded his fingers through her dirty hair and ran his hand down her back soothingly as her hiccups subsided. When she finally stirred, he loosened his grip to let her step away, but she slid her arms around his back and squeezed him tightly.

“Every time I look at you, I remember that I let you die,” she said in the tiniest whisper. “And then I made you come back and save me again. Even though I knew—I knew how much you resented being my Hero.”

Link looked up at the sky desperately, but who would he have prayed to? He was in this alone.

“Your Highness, there is no one left to force me to do anything. No king, no priestesses, no messengers.” He hesitantly reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and he tried to meet her gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying, and they were haunted with guilt. “I woke knowing nothing but the whisper of the wind in the wild, and I chose to follow it of my own accord. I do not regret it. And I have never regretted being _your_ Hero.”

Zelda loosened her grip on him, and he held her at arm’s length to stare her down. She swayed a little and clutched his vambraces for balance. She was shorter than him now by several inches, and she felt so frail in his hands. Had he really grown that much?

“I know that you hurt,” he continued gently. “The world we knew is gone. But there is life to be found in the ruins, Princess, and you are not alone.”

A few stray tears spilled down her cheeks once more. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” she said in a mournful tone. “I thank—”

“Hush.” She looked up at him, startled, but he would not soften his tone. “We are the only two beings in existence who could relate to one another, comfort one another, after the nightmares we have lived. We don’t need to apologize for it or thank each other, either.” He reached for her face, cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Please, Princess. Lay down your burden.”

Her lower lip trembled, but she finally nodded. “Call me Zelda, Link.”

“Let’s go home, Zelda.”

 

This time, when she asked him to tell her of his journey, he started at the beginning. She asked many questions, some of which he had to promise to answer later, when they stopped. He found himself admitting things to her that he had forgotten, or hadn’t imagined revealing to anyone.

He had loved being _clever_ , solving Shrines, and when he found out that he was naught but a warrior and a living weapon, he had been crushed.

He had quickly pieced together from the old man’s hints and the words of the monks that he was the Hero of legend, and that he had died in the line of duty; he had carried the weight of his failure with him even before he had even known what destiny had in store for him going forward.

As he journeyed onward, Impa, Purah, and others piled the weight of their expectations on his shoulders. He was their Courageous One, their Hero, but he never felt like it. He dreamed constantly of dying, over and over again, and he did not know how he was to accomplish such a monumental task when he had failed at a very simple one.

He had wondered, as he learned of Zelda’s existence, if she had resented her destiny, too, or if she had borne it with grace from a young age. Then, he had stumbled across the first memory she left for him, and he knew that she would forgive him for his doubts.

“I felt like you were giving me a choice, then,” he admitted as they followed the trail between the Dueling Peaks. “I knew that I could probably disappear into the wilderness and no one would come looking for me. But at the same time, knowing that you had at some point accepted your destiny and had held off the Calamity for a century…I wanted to save you. I knew no one else in the world but you would ever understand what I was feeling then.”

They exchanged small, hesitant smiles.

There were a few things Link didn’t tell her. Some things, like the fact that he had bought a house in Hateno, or that Purah had turned herself into a child, or that he had met Great Fairies, he kept to himself because he wanted to see her joyful surprise when she found out about them. Others, he could not bring himself to share. He did not tell Zelda that he had often communed with the Goddess, or that the Goddess had called him “Dear One,” or that he had spoken to the Hero in turn. He did not tell her that he remembered loving her.

He had not yet told her about his own journey to the Spring of Wisdom when they reached the Dueling Peaks Stable. His voice was hoarse from speaking—he did not often find himself talking in such volumes—so he suggested they take a short break for lunch.

Zelda enthusiastically agreed.

“It seems in one hundred years your appetite has finally caught up to mine,” Link said teasingly as he dismounted.

She rolled her eyes and accepted his hand to help her down from the saddle. Her knees were unsteady from fatigue, but her mood had lightened some as Link’s stories had drawn on.

“There are so many people here,” she observed in awe.

“More than usual,” Link agreed. He was less pleased at the sight of the crowds milling about the stable’s yards—but then he saw a familiar backpack.

He hurried to introduce Zelda to Beedle, and only when they stood before the merchant did Link realize he had never let go of Zelda’s hand.

“Linky!” Beedle cried, and they clasped their hands under their chin as giddy tears filled their big brown eyes. “You’re back! I was _so afraid_ you were never going to return from the Fields! I thought I lost my _best customer!”_

And with that, Beedle propped up his lap-counter and spread out his catalogue.

The merchant’s enthusiasm nearly caused Link to laugh, but he contained his amusement but for a smile. “Actually, Beedle, I’m still well-stocked from our last encounter. But I wanted to ask you, why is there such a crowd here?”

Beedle whirled around on one foot to gesture emphatically at the sky and the crowd below it. “We all ran to this side of the mountains because we saw the Calamity break free of the Castle! Everyone was certain it would destroy the world, but I stuck around for a bit to watch. And the world didn’t end, did it?”

Beedle turned half-way to look at Link and Zelda with a knowing smile. Zelda’s grip on Link’s hand was as tight as a vice, but she did not shrink away as Link gestured to her. “Beedle, this is Zelda. Zelda, this is my friend Beedle. He’s the most reliable and furthest-traveling merchant in all of Hyrule.”

“Zelda! Wow! So nice to meet you!” Beedle’s eyes were filled with stars. “You know, I just got here right ahead of you. I was going to tell everyone that the Fields are clear, but I could also—”

Link glanced at Zelda and found her looking a little green. Beedle seemed to catch the vibe, but their mood never flagged. The merchant quickly excused themselves to go say hello to someone else, and a moment later, his enthusiastic shouting could be heard all across the plain: there was no sign of the Calamity on Hyrule Field, in the Castle, or anywhere.

Cheers arose from all around the stable, and the cautious air that had settled on the crowd like a blanket dissipated in an instant. Beer and honey wine and pastries appeared for an impromptu celebration.

Link squeezed Zelda’s hand momentarily. “Do you want to stick around?”

She shivered, untouched by the joy in the air. “Link, what if they all head to the Castle to plunder it?”

“Already happened.” Link’s cheeks were uncomfortably warm. “I didn’t exactly storm the gates. There are several other ways in and out of the Castle, and I’m far from the first to know of them.” His words did not seem to ease Zelda’s worry, so he wracked his brain for something, anything else. “As soon as we get to Hateno, I’ll send word to Impa that the Castle must be protected. If anyone could keep it safe, it would be the Sheikah.”

That seemed to satisfy Zelda, at least for the moment. “Thank you,” she said. “I know that it is in ruins, but…it is still all I have to call home.”

Pain lanced through Link’s heart at the deep grief in her voice. He led her back to the horses, for he knew she would not truly stop worrying until they reached Hateno and Link kept his promise.

They left the Dueling Peaks Stable and ate rice balls in the saddle. There was no time to waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!


	4. Divine Intrusion.

Link had not been back to Blatchery Plain since his failure at Shatterback Point, when for the first time he had remembered his own death. At this point, he had been forced to relive that moment countless times—in his dreams, as a test by the Hero, as a test by the Golden Goddesses—and as he led Zelda across Blatchery, he did not think that he could be overcome by that memory ever again.

But as they passed by the empty, surely-dead husks of Guardians, Link couldn’t stop feeling rain on his face and fire in his blood. He doubled over in the saddle, one arm covering his gut to hold his vital organs inside his body. He knew that this was but a phantom pain, but he could not yank himself out of it and back into the bright, sunny afternoon.

“Link! Link, get up!”

He had been so lost in his pain that it did not register that he had fallen from he saddle in the present-day. His vision swam with tears, but he could make out Zelda’s frantic voice, her eyes. He gasped for breath, tried to push the memories of death away.

 _Master! Master!_ Fi’s voice was shrill in his mind, urgent. _Master, beware!_

Link ripped himself out of Zelda’s arms and drew the Master Sword just as the first Yiga clansman appeared. His vision flickered between what was there now and what had been one hundred years ago, but his instinct was the same: protect the princess.

He lunged out of Time just as the Yiga began its incantation to teleport out of the way; before the Yiga had even finished the first hand motion of the spell, Link had rammed the hilt of the Master Sword up into their chin and knocked their lights out. When he landed, the Yiga dropped like a stone, but Link could feel that the danger had not yet passed.

Zelda had her back to him, and she backpedaled as quickly as she could as a Yiga blademaster approached her, its Windcleaver drawn and—

Link was there in a flash, his soul extended out and down the tip of the Sword in his hand. The Windcleaver shattered into powder upon impact, and the Yiga blademaster cried out in pain as the bones in its hand likewise turned to dust.

Link stared up at the blademaster defiantly. “Your masters are dead,” he said. A note in his voice, or perhaps something in his eyes, made his foe take a step back in fear. “Abandon your cause!”

“The eye of the Yiga will be upon you until darkness falls again!” the blademaster bellowed, but when he teleported once more, it was simply to pick up its comrade and flee.

The danger gone, Link’s strength fled him, and he fell to one knee. His lack of sleep and the strain of recalling his most recent death had left him little energy left for battle, and summoning on his ability to step out of Time and move around it had drained him completely.

Zelda ran over to him and knelt beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other pressed against his chest. “Link, are you alright?”

He sucked in a deep lungful of fresh summer air and tried to recall that yes, he was just fine. He exhaled heavily and realized that he was shaking. He did not know how to answer her question, so he did not answer at all. “Are you okay?” he asked instead.

Zelda frowned. “I am perfectly alright, Link. You took care of those thugs before I even felt that I was in danger. But _you_ fell from your _horse!_ When the Yiga appeared I thought perhaps you had been struck from afar—” As she spoke, her eyes wandered up and down the road around them. Something occurred to her, and her breath caught in her throat.

Link forced himself to stand, forced himself to sheath Fi and walk back to his horse.

Zelda hurried after him, but she stopped a foot away, her fingers woven tightly against her breast. Her knuckles were white. Link looked away from her as her brows furrowed.

“Link, I will lay down my burden if you agree to lay yours down as well. You said it yourself: we are the only ones who can understand each other.”

Link bowed his head against Prayer’s side and tried to summon some of his trademark Courage, but he was in short supply. He ground his teeth as hard as he could to keep his tears at bay, but he was not strong enough, and they stung his eyes anyway.

“I remember in pieces,” he said tersely. “Mostly, I remember dying. I’ve remembered dying a thousand deaths a thousand times, but it never gets easier. Because _you_ never remember.” A terrible strength rose in him, and he could not bite back the words that came with it. “I have done my penance for allowing despair into my heart, and I no longer resent the curse, or destiny. But there’s _such_ cruelty that the one companion I have in every life cannot remember any of them.”

He tensed, waited for her to cry, waited for her to voice her confusion—anything. But he was not prepared for what she said.

“Then I will remember.”

Link looked up at her with wide, startled eyes.

Her expression was resolute. “I spent a century dreaming of centuries past, and though they have fled from my grasp, I know—I know you were always in them.” She hugged herself tightly. “I know—I know that they lie somewhere inside me. Those memories. I took too long to awaken my powers, and I will not let this life pass me by without awakening who I truly am, not now that I have a second chance.”

Link did not fight himself this time when he felt the need to embrace her. She opened her arms to him, and they clung to each other tightly, dared the universe to tear them apart once more.

It was as though night fell around them in an instant. The two young heroes stood in a field of stars, and a voice called out to them. It was a voice that was a multitude of voices—a voice that threatened to send them to their knees—a voice older than Time.

 _Children_ , the voice called.

Link looked over the top of Zelda’s head and saw the shadowy forms of the Golden Ones, disguised as Sheikah Elders once more. They spoke as one.

_You have done well to overcome the challenges of this lifetime. With the strength you have attained, we are certain you can unlock the powerful force hidden within…and the full power of the Triforce._

_Return the Sheikah Slate to its pedestal. Your path will show itself._

Din slammed the butt of her staff on the dark floor below her, and the vision ended.

Link and Zelda were once again in the middle of Blatchery Plain. Their horses had not seemed to notice the Divine intrusion, and there was no one on the road for miles around them.

“What…who were they?”

Link always felt drained after an encounter with the Golden Goddesses, and now he was so exhausted he could hardly stand. “Din, Nayru, and Farore,” he said wearily. “I woke them from their slumber and proved that I was rightfully sorry for the heresy of Despair. They gave me their blessing, too. And now I think it’s your turn.”

Zelda looked up at him in surprise. “Then we must heed them at once! Where is the pedestal they speak of?”

Link groaned. “We are not setting off on this journey until we have slept at least for a week,” he said flatly.

Zelda flew to the saddle, leaving Link to stumble back to Prayer’s side on his own.

“The faster we get to Hateno, the sooner we can rest!” she proclaimed. “Now, do you remember what you had just started to tell me before we stopped at the stable?”

They reached Hateno just as the sun began to set. Word had not yet arrived that the Calamity had fallen, and Link was hardly noticed as he led Zelda through the village and across the bridge that led to his home.

When she saw the sign, she gasped. “Link, how in the _world_ did you come to possess a house?”

He dismounted and led Lanayru and Prayer around back to the apple tree. They were content to graze there while Link helped Zelda down and shouldered their saddlebags. “I bought it,” he said simply. At her unbridled awe, he felt a tinge of guilt. “There were no other buyers, so I got a steep discount,” he admitted.

She was no less impressed, and she followed him inside as he unlocked the front door and went to light the lanterns around the house. When he returned downstairs, he found her staring a the weapon mounts on his walls.

Her fingers traced the ruby at the center of Urbosa’s shield. “They survived,” she said softly.

Link approached with Revali’s bow and returned it to its mount beside the rest. “They are prized artifacts of their people,” he explained. “The Divine Beasts had terrorized the people who lived nearby them, and these were thanks for soothing Medoh, Ruta, Naboris, and Rudania. I couldn’t bring myself to use any of them, except Revali’s. Pretty sure he would have haunted me forever if I hadn’t used it to put an arrow in Ganon’s eye. Which I did.”

He returned to his saddlebags and found several bars of soap and towels. He would keep one bar for laundry, but he handed the rest to Zelda. “It’s a little rustic,” he admitted, “but if you would like, the bath is through here.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Goddesses above,” she moaned and darted through the door.

While she bathed, he returned upstairs to set up his bedroll on the floor beside the bed. He lay Fi down between them, within reach of both him and Zelda, once they retired for the night.

As he knelt before the Sword, a thought struck him. If they were to return the Sheikah Slate to its pedestal, would they soon be required to return the Sword to its home in the Lost Woods? His heart ached at the very thought of parting from the Sword ever again.

 _No, Master,_ Fi assured him. _I will not leave you. No one can part us but death—and then, not for long._

“No, not for long,” he murmured in reply.

Zelda took her time bathing, though Link did not mind. He could imagine that a century of grime and soot and Malice had soaked deep into her skin—and she did have a lot of hair to wash, as well.

So in the meantime, he made a pot of tea and prepared some simple, spiced skewers of meat and vegetables. He did not have the energy to cook anything else.

A sound outside drew him to the window, and he saw Bolson and the construction crew unloading casks of brew beside the fire. It seemed that they were celebrating something.

Link ventured outside and waved hello.

“Link!” one of the workers cried jubilantly. “We’ve just heard: the Calamity is gone!”

“Just in time for my big business expansion!” Bolson noted proudly. “The Goddesses are smiling down on Bolson Construction today, boys!”

The crew cheered.

“Join us, Link! You look like you could use a—”

“—a nap!” Bolson cut in. “The poor guy clearly hasn’t slept in days. But do you mind if we party out here? Their wives don’t like them drinking over at the tavern anymore, since the incident.”

Link did not question Bolson about the _incident_ , but he graciously reminded them that they were allowed to use his campfire at any time.

Bolson clapped a hand down on Link’s shoulder. “You’re _wel_ -come, kid,” he said in a low voice. “Introduce us to her sometime, won’t you?”

Link’s face went as red as a hearty radish, and he fled back inside.

Zelda opened the door to the bath just as he returned. She had changed back into the Sheikah clothing he had given her, for it was still clean, and she had a towel slung over her shoulder to keep her wet hair from soaking through her clothes.

The smell of rosemary and lemon filled the air; she had clearly scrubbed herself with vigor—her skin was red from the effort, and the bar of soap was but a small nub left on the basin’s edge.

She pulled out a chair for herself and sat gingerly at the table. “Link, you’ve only prepared one meal,” she said accusingly.

“I’m taking mine to-go,” he replied. “I promised I’d send a message to Impa as soon as we got here. The door is locked. Don’t let anyone in.”  
He pulled out the Slate. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell her?”

Zelda frowned, unsure what was about to happen, but she shook her head no.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, he vanished into wisps of blue aura.

 

Kakariko was alive with life. He could see people running between houses, gathering revelers for the celebration that was about to occur. But Cado and Dorian stood watchful guard at the entrance to Impa’s house, like always.

Link was careful to land right outside her door to avoid attracting attention, and he slipped inside unnoticed.

Impa was wide awake, giving orders to a small group of Sheikah dressed in traditional armor. She looked up the moment he entered, and her words died in her throat.

“Link!” she cried. “All of you, leave at once!”

Before Link could get a word in edgewise, the Sheikah warriors had vanished into thin air. The Yiga had taken after them in that tradition.

“Impa,” Link said, and there was a note of warning in his voice. He did not have the stamina to deal with demands or praise or stories. “I saved Zelda, and we’ve banished the Calamity from Hyrule. But we’ve been given another task by the Golden Goddesses. Would you send your people to watch over Hyrule Castle?”

“Of course,” Impa replied. “We will not allow anyone to move in while the princess is preparing for her return.” She paused. “She _is_ preparing for her return, yes?”

Link narrowed his eyes a little. “You know her,” he said by way of reply.

Impa relaxed ever so slightly and looked out the window to her right. “I could taste it in the air. The Malice is gone.” She sighed. “I feared what my scouts would find at the battleground. I thought I had known fear when you fell the first time, when the princess did not return from the Castle…”

Link approached her throne of pillows. “I will bring her here soon,” he promised. “But she needs to rest, and we must obey the Goddesses.”  
Impa glanced at him sidelong. “I sensed something on you when you came in. You’ve been touched by something far more powerful than a Great Fairy or the Sword itself.”

Her hat jingled as she turned back to face him fully. “The last time I saw you, you told me you were never going to be the Link that I had known. But the young man who stands before me has the eyes of the Hero I raised one hundred years ago. Go, Link. Light has cast out the darkness from Hyrule, and you deserve to rest.”

 

When Link returned to his house and unlocked the door, he found Zelda at the top of the stairs, clutching the Sword that Seals the Darkness.

Fi rang out sheepishly. _I tried to tell her it was you,_ she said. _She cannot hear me well._

“Oh! It’s you!” Zelda carefully set down the Master Sword and hurried downstairs to meet him. “How in the world did you do that? What other functions of the Slate have you managed to uncover?”

Her curiosity had given her fuel that Link did not have, but a smile burst across his face regardless. He held out the Slate for her, but when she laid her hands on it he did not hand it over immediately. “I am going to clean myself and do laundry,” he began, “and if you have disappeared to a far corner of Hyrule when I return, I will let you die in the wilderness.”

She gaped at him as he trekked toward the bath room. “Do _not_ press Travel!” he reminded her, and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? The Champion's Ballad isn't just for Link!


	5. Unconscious Gravity, Healing Sleep.

Zelda had been stunned by what she found on the Slate when he handed it to her the previous night. Link had somehow unlocked several new functions that had never been written about in the ancient texts—or at least, none that Zelda had discovered in her scholarly work. The ancient Sheikah script still came naturally to her, and she had read the description of each rune very carefully. That’s how she knew not to summon any sort of remote bomb in the middle of the stable.

She had instead focused on the strange powers of Magnesis and Stasis—there had been no body of water to experiment with Cryonis. Once partially satisfied that she knew their capabilities, she had lain in bed and opened the photo album that she had left for Link all those years ago.

Except now there were more photos: photos of serene, mummified Sheikah monks with ceremonial headdresses and the tattoos worn by the most honored Sheikah. She soon deduced that each monk lay at the end of a path through strange architecture and deadly obstacles, which Link had documented as well. She spent her whole night staring at them, her mind unable to focus on anything but the shapes and the lights and the forms Link had captured with the camera rune—but in her weary state, Zelda could not piece two thoughts together about them, and she came to no significant conclusions.

Now, exhaustion crept upon her once more. Though she longed to take notes on the architecture and symbolism of the Sheikah monuments, she could barely keep her eyes open.

So she set the Slate down on Link’s bed and sat on the floor beside the Sword. She still felt a deep kinship with it, forged by their mutual fatigue and grief over Link’s death one hundred years ago. Though she knew the Sword held the power to kill anyone who touched it, she felt welcome to run her fingers across its smooth steel and hold it in her lap.

She could not hear the Spirit of the Sword as well as she had in that crucial moment after Link fell. The Sword had spoken directly to her broken heart, then.

As the Sheikah took Link’s body away on a makeshift litter, she and the Sword had fled north together, through the rain and the hellfire. Guardians crumbled before her, blessed by the Triforce she wielded in her palm. All the while, the Sword guided her— _north, north, north._ It led her safely through the maze of the Lost Woods and into the hidden oasis at its center. The Sword’s voice had grown weak by the time she reached its resting place, and she had cradled it gently in her arms as she promised that it would be safe, that its master would return once more…

Zelda cradled the Sword as she had one hundred years ago, and she thought of the words of the Great Deku Tree. She thought of the immense feeling in her chest as she spoke of her duty to come: one of relief. Though she had lost everything she held dear to her to achieve it, she had finally—finally—unlocked something in her that she hadn’t realized was there.

Love.

Love would carry her through the Calamity. Love would fuel her hope, her faith, that her Hero would return and succeed where she had failed.

And he had. _He had._

So where was that love, now?

The man who had greeted her on Hyrule Field resembled her Link in so many ways. But one hundred years ago, Zelda had felt as afraid and resentful and bitter about her destiny as he did; she had loved him so, because they were two unwitting pawns in a divine play whose script they were not privy to. They had been in it together: two lost souls in the dark.

He had not been naive, then, and he had not been innocent. But there was an awareness in his eyes now that was unknown to her.

He had spoken with confidence, then, and she had relied upon his decisiveness when she did not know how to act. But now, his confidence was informed by some knowledge—perhaps even a wisdom—that she did not have.

This Link was one step removed from her, but though that distance did not feel insurmountable, it unsettled her to know that what progress she had made getting to know him, coming to love him, had been undone.

Zelda hugged the Sword to her chest. He was stronger now. But so was she. They would overcome this distance, they would grow together once more. The Goddesses had given her one last task, and she would need to find the confidence in herself to succeed.

 _We will not break,_ the Sword whispered to her now, at the edge of her consciousness.

“No,” Zelda replied softly. “We will not.”

 

Link had uncovered several wounds that he had not noticed at first—things that the Hearty Elixir had not healed. Sometime on his journey, he had become accustomed to a certain level of constant pain, and he had not noticed that his palms were blistered and burned, that there was blood in his ear, that his shoulder was still swollen. He had left his sack under the kitchen table, so his wounds would have to wait for after his bath. It was not the first time he had rubbed soap into an open sore. Perhaps, it would be the last.

After bathing, he washed their clothes vigorously and, when he was done, laid them out to dry by the fire downstairs. He had rubbed Hearty Elixir into his wounded palms and changed into his Snowquill trousers for the night, and he finally felt ready to fall into his nice, soft bed—

His _empty_ soft bed.

Link jumped up the last two stairs with his heart in his throat. He should have known better than to leave her alone with the damned Slate…which lay innocently on his bed.

Link forced himself to take a deep breath, then took a step to the side and found his princess asleep on the bedroll he had set up for himself on the floor. His heart melted at the sight of her curled tightly in a ball around the sheathed Sword that Seals the Darkness. Her wet hair splayed out around her head like curling tendrils of smoke, and her hands were clasped in front of her, prayer-like. In her sleep, the Triforce glimmered under the skin of her hand like a beautiful tattoo, but in Link’s eyes it was a dark reminder of their joint destinies.

Link considered his options. He refused to let her spend the night on the floor, but he was loathe to disturb her. In the end, he decided to kneel quietly at her feet and try to wake her. He certainly wouldn’t have reacted well if someone tried to pick him up while he was asleep, so he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt as well. Didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of the Triforce, now, did he?

“Zelda,” he said softly, but insistently. “Zelda?”

“Dear One?” Zelda mumbled, her eyes still closed.

Her words hit Link like a lightning bolt, and he sat petrified in the wake of them. He wondered if this were a dream—and if so, he was reluctant to say or do anything to make it end.

But Zelda’s consciousness rose to the surface once more, and she opened her eyes blearily to look up at him. Something registered quite suddenly, and she shot up, her eyes fixated on his bare chest. “Oh, Link,” she gasped.

He looked down and saw nothing but healed scars— _healed scars._ He felt his cheeks color not with shame or modesty but rather with guilt. He should have thought of how the sight of his mortal wounds would make her feel.

Link tried to clear his head. Guilt would do neither of them much good, now, and he had something more important to deal with than regret. “Zelda, I will not have you sleep on my floor.”

“And I will not have you exiled from your own bed, in your own house,” she replied wearily. She extended a hand for him, and on reflex he took it and helped her to her feet. She stretched her arms up above her head and yawned. “You said it yourself,” she said through the second yawn that followed, “there are no kings, no priestesses, no messengers to enforce royal decorum.” She set the Sheikah Slate down on the desk beside her and then drew back the covers of his bed. “Please do not make me order you.”

“I won’t fight you,” he promised. “I’ll go put out the lamps.”

He returned downstairs to douse the lamps and to give his heart a chance to calm down. _Royal decorum._ He scoffed.

Zelda was still seated upright when he joined her for the night. She had pulled her mass of damp hair over her shoulder and was untangling it painstakingly with her fingers. Something stirred in Link at the sight, and as he came to sit on the bed beside her, he asked, “May I?”

She only blinked at him in reply, but she did not question him as he reached for her hair and pulled it over her back toward him. He closed his eyes and tried to let his muscle memory take over. _Start at the bottom, untangle to the top. Section into three. Plait tightly—but not too tight._

“You _remember_.”

Zelda’s voice was naught but a whisper, but the awe and heartache in it was clear. He did not reply, focused on the task in his hands.

When he reached the end of the braid, he used his own hair tie to secure it. He would find spare twine somewhere in the morning to pull his hair back. For now, he admired his handiwork and draped it carefully across her shoulder for inspection. Her sleepy fingers felt for the shape of the braid at the base of her neck and followed the plait down to its tip.

“Beautifully done, thank you,” she said, turning to him. She allowed a small smile to grace her face. “You told me your mother taught you that. It came in very handy when my handmaidens could not keep up on expeditions.”

He nodded, silent. His fingers tingled, and he recalled the last time he had touched her hair—they had spoken of his mother, then, too, as they wove flower crowns for one another in the early spring sun. He could not remember his mother’s face, her voice. But he was certain he remembered things she had taught him, and more than just how to braid hair and how to make a daisy chain. She had been a warrior, a skilled spy, and the guardian of the women of the royal family…just as he was.

Zelda slipped under the covers of his bed and stretched out on her stomach, one of his two pillows hugged under her cheek. She watched him carefully as he blew out the last remaining lamp and drew the curtains closed. His eyes had not adjusted to the murk when he joined her in bed, but he could feel her breath on his face and her warmth against his side.

“Link…”

His ears twitched, attentive.

“You had just started telling me about Tarrey Town…”

 

They were drawn together throughout the night by some magnetic force, until they slept curled around each other like complimentary puzzle pieces. Zelda buried her face in his neck, an arm slung around his side such that her hand lay over his heart. He clutched that hand in his sleep, and his head bowed toward their intertwined fingers in a deep vigil. Their legs tangled hopelessly, locked them together.

That was how they woke; slowly, their minds resurfaced from healing sleep, and they became conscious of the warmth that enveloped them, wound together under the heavy quilts Link had collected for himself on his journey.

Zelda sighed softly and allowed herself to nestle closer against him. Her girlish heart had longed for forbidden moments like this with her Champion, and though the sweetness of it was marred by the pain of their circumstances, she could not deny that she was deeply satisfied. His smell, his warmth, the…solidity of him pressed against her, and the steady beat of his heart under he palm, assured her that she was alive, she was corporeal, she was mortal, and she was not dreaming.

Link recognized this embrace not for what it resembled but for what he recognized in it: the desperately human need to be touched, to feel the boundary of one’s existence in respect to another’s. It was how he had returned to himself, in the Shrine of Resurrection: her warmth had shaped him out of the shapeless, had reminded him of his edges, where he ended and the world began. Since that moment, he had often laid awake in the dark wilderness, surrounded by air and stars, and felt so terribly alone, so terribly vast, and had wished to be pieced together into one being, into the shape of himself, again.

He squeezed Zelda’s hand momentarily, and they drifted back to sleep.

 

When they woke next, it was because Link’s stomach growled so loudly it startled the both of them out of their dreams.

There was no way to tell how long they had slept. Link suspected they had slept the whole day away and woken to the next; regardless, it was morning, and Link pulled himself out of Zelda’s arms and slipped downstairs to prepare breakfast. The princess followed a little while later, once the heady aroma of frying eggs and onion wafted up to her. She found a plate of fried bread, melted cheese, and egg waiting for her.

“It’s a common dish among broke travelers,” Link explained. “I picked it up from one of the stables’ notice boards.”

“It smells _delicious_ ,” Zelda proclaimed, and dug in.

“I thought we could go into town today and visit the tailor for you,” Link said, his mouth full of egg. “If you’d like.”

“I’m grateful for your generosity, but I would like my own clothes, yes.” Zelda looked down at her rumpled Sheikah robes and remembered her soft but sturdy riding clothes. She supposed she would never own garments quite that comfortable ever again. “What shall we do with the rest of the day?”

Link had brought the Slate down with them, and he gestured at it now with his fork. “Want to see if this will carry two?” Zelda’s gasp of delight brought a wide grin to his face. “I think Tarrey Town deserves witnessing with your own eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R :)
> 
> Busy week, see you on the other side.


	6. Research and Development.

The morning was warm, the air was sweet, and Link had miraculously washed the smell of evil from her ceremonial dress. Zelda changed into it while Link took care of some of the chores around the house—doing dishes, feeding the horses, and gathering flowers. Zelda could see him from the window by his bedside, on his knees in the yard, collecting a bouquet. She watched him for a while that way. The sight of him focused on such a domestic task warmed her heart, but it felt out of place as well. This was her Hero, her Champion. He had slain demons with the Divine Sword on his back. And he was _gardening_.

When he finally stood and walked back toward the house, Zelda came downstairs to meet him. Though the smile on his face was small, she thought it was luminous; she had so rarely seen him smile throughout their friendship, but this Link— _this_ Link’s neutral expression bore the slightest hint of a smile at all times.

“Shall we?” she asked brightly, and stepped out into the day.

The tailor, who had been so shy whenever Link needed her services, approached Zelda the moment they entered. “Measurements?”

“I have them,” Zelda said. “I need riding clothes and something to sleep in, please.”

The tailor seemed a little disappointed that she wouldn’t need to use her handy tape measure, but she noted down Zelda’s measurements and asked a few questions about fabric and cut. Link could not grasp what they were talking about, so he stood quietly by the door, his eyes on the ceiling.

Zelda collected him with a light touch on the arm, and they left the tailor and returned to Link’s garden together.

“Is there anything I need to know before we begin? Need I steel myself?” Zelda asked as she peered around Link’s shoulder while he zoomed in on the Dah Hesho Shrine in southern Akkala.

Link recalled the first time he had fast traveled through the Slate—it had felt like the world was falling apart, but probably because he had been taken by surprise. “You can’t really _brace_ yourself,” he told Zelda finally. “It feels like you’re not moving at all, but the world is moving very, very fast around you. You can feel the speed like a pull on your body, but you’re frozen, you can’t breathe. And then suddenly you slam to a stop, and gravity kicks in, and you fall to the ground, but usually it’s only a foot or so.”

Zelda considered all of this and looped her arm through his. “The first thing they teach you as a little princess is balance,” she said. “Let’s put mine to the test, shall we?”

Link pressed _Travel_ and tried to prepare himself to catch Zelda upon landing in Akkala.

The sensation of being ripped into the aura while holding on to someone else was even more jarring than Link had anticipated. The speed at which they traveled threatened to dislodge them from each other, or at least his arm from his shoulder, yet they were as unable to move during the process as ever. When they finally coalesced in Akkala, it was as if they had been dropped like stones from above. Their knees bent upon impact, but they both kept their balance.

 _“Fascinating!_ ” Zelda cried. “Oh, I wonder if my original hypothesis about the power source for Sheikah technology was correct. I always told Purah that it was the aura of Hyrule, the very essence of the land created by the Golden Goddesses, captured in blue flame and channeled by amber, but she insisted that it was merely the power of ultra-hot flames, which are blue, but—”

“I think you’re right, Zelda,” Link said.

She blinked at him. “You do? What makes you say that?”

Link fished in his pocket for a moment and surfaced with a handful of small amber shards. “There’s a memorial at the top of Mount Hylia. It’s ancient. I think people once traveled their to make offerings, because there’s a giant pile of amber shards under the memorial. So it was probably important to them, right? And if it was the way to connect with the essence of Hyrule or the power of its Goddess, then—”

“—then that adds some credence to my idea!” Zelda clapped her hands together once decisively. “Thank you, Link! What an keen observation. Perhaps you have the soul of a researcher in you, too.”

Pride swelled in Link’s chest. He wondered if anyone else had ever thought of him as being smart or scholarly. He liked being thought of that way, and he liked that _Zelda_ thought of him that way, even for a moment.

“Well, let us return to the task at hand!” Zelda proclaimed. “I imagine you would like to get to Tarrey Town sooner than later.”

“No tasks,” Link reminded her. “This is all at our own pace.”

Her beaming smile lit up the world like the afternoon sun. Given license to continue, she spun on her heel and looked up at the shrine behind them. “So you finally managed to open them,” she said delightedly. “I wonder why you couldn’t operate the Slate one hundred years ago.”

“I tried?”

Zelda glanced at him, quickly understanding where his memory had lapsed. “Yes. After I stopped blowing you off, I had you try to open the monuments with the Slate. Of course, it only had the picture function available, so perhaps it was ‘asleep’ in some way.”

“We hadn’t activated any of the Sheikah towers,” Link said. “When I first got the Slate, it only had a map. I had to wake up the Plateau Tower before all of the Shrines had power, so before the towers were unearthed, the Shrines must have been dormant.”

Zelda whirled around, squinting at the horizon for the towers he had mentioned. “I hadn’t even noticed,” she murmured. “Again, the amber, and the power, and the aura… Are the blue ones active?”

Link nodded.

“Well! Then that must mean this shrine has also been activated.” Zelda turned back to him. “These are what you took the pictures of, yes?”

“I don’t think I’ve taken any pictures of the Tests of Strength. But I’m not going to now. They were fairly dangerous to me starting out and I’ve been seriously hurt by the Major Tests of Strength.”

“Then we should visit one that’s not as dangerous. Maybe we can do that after we visit town,” Zelda suggested, unperturbed. She leaned forward beside him, looking out at Tarrey Town. “I always wondered what had been there, in the center of Lake Akkala. There was only ever a little Goddess Statue in a small pool of water.”

Link had looked out at the town when they had landed, and he had seen that many more houses had sprung up since he last visited. Now, his eyes were on Zelda as she took in the youngest settlement in her kingdom. A nervous energy radiated from her; it seemed like the very air and earth around her vibrated with it.

“It’s still there,” he said. “Life has sprung up around her, while we were sleeping.”

Zelda knew that he was right, but she could not will her legs to move. She would never admit it, but she was loathe to see the life in the ruins that Link so earnestly believed in. A part of her, deep and dark and desperate, could not bear to see that the world had continued turning—and found strength and life and prosperity—without her. She feared that she might find a kind of independence and autonomy among her people, her land, that would render her existence a moot point.

When she looked at Link again, she was startled by the intensity of his gaze. Those clear blue eyes knew her better than they should have.  
Zelda reached for his hand, and she knew that he would give her some of his Courage.

No wolves bothered them as they skirted the cliffs, and when they finally reached Tarrey Town they were met instead with very playful domesticated dogs.

Link led Zelda over to Hudson, who still worked to clear stone away for new houses.

“Hudson!” Link called. “I brought a friend to see Tarrey Town. This is Zelda.”

“Hey!” Hudson puffed. “It’s been a while.” He apologized for not shaking Zelda’s hand; he was covered in sweat and dirt and didn’t want to get her dirty. “Link, you sent me a tailor and a miner, and I need to thank you. Look at how Tarrey Town has grown!”

“I’m amazed,” Link said. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“That friend of yours has helped a lot. He’s brought me wood and even found me a Rito—Fyson—and now we have a general store!” Hudson beamed.

“You mean Granté?” Link was shocked that the young man, who had scoffed at the idea of helping Hudson when there were no rupees in it, would help build the town from the ground up. “Is he around?”

“He’s taken up residence in one of the apartments,” Hudson replied, gesturing with his pickax. “But Link… I actually wanted to talk about something a little personal…”

Zelda moved to step away, but Link did not release her hand to let her go. “What’s wrong?” he asked Hudson.

“Oh, not that kind of personal. Actually,” and Hudson’s face brightened in a way that Link had never seen on the man, “I got engaged.”

“No way!” Link’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor.

Zelda gasped in turn. “Congratulations!” she cried.

“To who?” Link asked.

“To Rhondson.” Hudson’s face was a cherry red. “So I must thank you for more than one reason. Anyway, we want to have a little ceremony to celebrate, but we need someone priest-like to officiate.”

“Priest-like, huh…” Link had a feeling that he knew someone who fit the bill, but he’d have to think on it. He had met many, many people in his travels, and many more dim memories glimmered in the back of his brain. It would take a little time to sort them out. “I’ll send someone your way as soon as I find them, Hudson. And congratulations.”

Hudson waved them off heartily and returned to his labor. Link and Zelda wandered around, meeting the new residents of Tarrey Town. Link recalled a few of their faces from his travels, but many were strangers: Hylians old and young who had been searching for some place to settle down and hadn’t found a home in the wilderness until now.

Link introduced Zelda to Rhondson and congratulated the tailor for her engagement. She was delighted to see Link again, though she showed it in her trademark Rhondson way. “I see that fate has done you the same favor you did me!”

Link tried to keep his blush down. Zelda did not seem to understand what Rhondson implied, and she also did not seem to see the glimmer of terror in his own eyes. He cleared his throat emphatically. “How’s your business?”

“Booming,” Rhondson proclaimed. “Your friend Granté bought my first set of voe armor, and apparently he has great influence across Hyrule. People have come from far away to get the same set, because they’ve seen it in his collection!”

Link wondered if all Gerudo tailors knew how to craft the forbidden voe armor, or if it were a secret kept only to the Gerudo Secret Club. “It sure beats walking all the way from Eldin to Gerudo Town,” Link noted. “I’m sure that walk was exhausting, Rhondson.”

“The thought of a big, burly voe waiting for a tailor to sew his ripped work clothes kept me going!” Rhondson proclaimed. “Thank you for that, Link. I have never been happier.”

Soon, Link and Zelda excused themselves to go find Granté, and Zelda leaned in to Link to voice his earlier thoughts.

“Do you think she’s related to Ante? Urbosa told me that she was the only Gerudo who knew how to craft armor for men! And it looked _just_ like that.”

“I think more than one person knows now,” Link replied. “I didn’t realize Rhondson knew how to make it, but I got a set just like it in Gerudo Town from someone else.”

 _“In_ Gerudo Town?”

Link offered her a wry smile. “I have oft been mistaken for your handmaid.”

“I remember.” Zelda returned his smile warmly. “I’m glad you do, too.”  
Link held the door to Granté’s apartment open for her, and they headed quietly up the stairs to surprise the young man they had seen from outside.

Granté was perched precariously on the railing of his balcony, a cloak in his lap and a needle in hand. He was so engrossed in his needlework that he nearly fell to his death from fright when the door behind him opened.

He swore when he saw Link, and he ran over to embrace his friend. With his arms still tight around Link, he said, “I knew you’d come back. But I held my breath this whole time, waiting!”

“Granté—”

“I know, I’m being rude.” Granté half-released Link and contorted the two of them into a bow for Zelda. Though it lacked some of the decorum she was used to, she felt no slight. “Princess, it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Zelda’s eyes were wide, shocked at being addressed as the person she truly was. Her shoulders immediately straightened. “Thank you, Granté. I have heard from Rhondson and Hudson that you played an instrumental role in building up this town. I must congratulate you, too. It is a beautiful home you have found.”

Link was amused to see Granté blush. He hadn’t thought the young man was physically capable of being embarrassed. “Yeah, what’s that about?” he asked his friend. “I thought you didn’t do anything that wouldn’t get you rupees.”

Granté shrugged, his face still red. “I see it as an investment. And it’s nice to have a place to go home to where I don’t have to hear my parents arguing all the time. Speaking of whom, my mom said you stopped by asking about the Springs.”

The three young people sat at the table there on the balcony as Link explained the secrets of the Lomei and Zonai and the Springs they hid. He pulled out the ancient circlet and the travel medallion for Granté and Zelda to inspect as he spoke. When he finished, Granté and Zelda clearly wanted to hear more—not so much about the Golden Goddesses and his spiritual trials, but rather about his brushes with ancient technologies.

“There were still _lamps_ in the labyrinth island? And they were _l_ _it?”_

“I wonder if there were many travel medallions, or if just one. If just one, then it must have been made for the Hero, just like the Slate!”

“And if there were ancient Sheikah technology hidden in the Lomei and Zonai territory, then maybe there’s more hidden in those ruins!”

Granté and Zelda became so engrossed in a conversation about ancient technology, amber, and aura, that it seemed they forgot Link was even there. He reached into his bag in the meantime and drew out the ancient tech greaves that had been damaged by an axe-wielding Guardian.

Zelda snatched it as soon as he set it on the table, commenting on its construction and what function the amber inlays could serve in battle. Granté took one look at it, however, and reached for the repair kit he had been working with earlier.

I told Dad he needed to protect the exposed linking sections more,” Granté insisted to Link. “I knew something like this would happen. He just isn’t practically-minded. Especially when it looks cool.”

Zelda frowned as she handed Link's damaged armor to the young Sheikah. Link saw her look of confusion and explained. “Granté takes after Robbie. He makes and sells rare armor, including ancient technology. ”

“WHAT?!”

Her shout could have roused birds across Akkala.

“Purah, Impa, _and_ Robbie survived the Calamity? Oh, _Link.”_ She covered her face in her hands, then threw them down again to look at Granté. “And you! Your father was my chief science advisor! _That’s_ how you knew!”

Granté grinned and looked between Zelda and Link in amusement. “Much of that has been shunted on to me and my mother,” he admitted. “I would describe Dad as more of a…crazy tinkerer.”

That was certainly one way to put it, Link thought.

“What were you working on before we came up?” Zelda asked eagerly.

Granté shrugged. “I was just mending some clothes and thinking. I’ve come across some texts, Princess, that you might be interested in. They concern the Divine Beasts.”

Zelda nearly jumped out of her seat. “What texts? My research found references to a lost body of work, and we had not yet found it when we—”

“I imagine that this is it, then,” Granté said smoothly. He, like Link, would not let her dwell on the events of one hundred years ago. “They speak of armor made for the pilots of the Divine Beasts, as well as the Champion’s horse. I don’t have much information about what happened to them after they were made.”

Link’s ears had perked up immediately at the thought of more equestrian armor, but his interest was purely in the novelty of the idea—and he liked having complete sets of armor for him and his horse. Nevertheless, if it weren’t for Zelda’s avid pursuit of all things ancient tech, he would have been content to leave their locations a mystery. The Guardians were dormant, the Divine Beasts were stationary, and the Calamity was sealed away for the rest of this lifetime.

Zelda sighed. “It’s so disappointing to know they were out there, may still be out there, but are lost to time.”

Granté chuckled a little and set about his repairs on Link’s armor. “Princess, I think you’ll find that these things like to reveal themselves when you travel with the Hero of Time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!


	7. A Song in the Wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...graduate school is busy...but here is a chapter.

When Link and Zelda left Tarrey Town, the sun was low on the horizon and Zelda’s heart was full. It was a bittersweet feeling that brought mist to her eyes, though a small smile remained on her face. It was as she had predicted: the knowledge that life for her people had continued on without her, the monarchy, and the Goddess, weighed heavily in her heart. At the same time, it filled her with pride. Her people were resilient, and in her one hundred years of limbo, she had done a good enough job keeping evil at bay that her people had managed to rebound from catastrophe.

Zelda followed Link silently across the land bridge out of town and away from the road. She did not ask where they were going next, though she assumed home to Hateno, and she hooked arms with Link as he opened up the Sheikah Slate. She allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder, and she smiled a little wider when he squeezed her arm affectionately against his side in response.

When the Slate set them down again and Zelda opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that they were not in Hateno after all. Instead, they were at a Shrine in the wilderness, and music floated toward them on the evening breeze. The look Link gave her revealed no answers.

She led the way toward the music, and Link followed one step behind. Pools of rainwater were scattered across the land about them where grass gave way to worn stone; mountains rose up in the distance, peaked with snow, and a Sheikah Tower loomed nearby.

They crested a hill and found the source of the music—and she realized where they were, at last. The crumbling Temple of Time had kept watch over the Great Plateau despite the events of the past century, and its windows looked sadly down upon her as she approached. The scattered remains of Guardian Stalkers littered the grounds around the Temple, evidence that Ganon had sent his armies there in fruitless search for her fallen Champion…

A Rito minstrel stood looking up at the Temple as he played a slow melody on his accordion; he had his back to them, and he gave a start of surprise when Link cleared his throat to interrupt.

When the bard turned, he jumped again at the sight of Zelda standing before him. The Rito’s eyes darted from Link to Zelda and back again.

“Good evening,” Zelda said tentatively, utterly confused by Link’s poorly concealed smirk and the Rito’s nearly terrified expression. “I…heard your beautiful music and followed it here.”

“Forgive me!” the Rito cried. “It’s simply so unexpected to see a traveler on this solitary plateau. Few without wings can scale its walls, and I thought I was alone here.”

“Then I must ask forgiveness for startling you,” Zelda replied. She glanced back at Link helplessly. Who was this Rito? What was she meant to say to him?

Fortunately, Link caught her drift. “Kass, my friend here is a scholar of ancient technology and writings.”

Kass’s eyes were wide when Zelda looked back at him. “Y-yes, I am. Are you as well, Kass?”

“Indeed!” Kass stammered. “I have dedicated my life to traveling Hyrule in search of ancient verses. Many are songs that sing the praises of the Hero who beat back the Calamity in an age past.”

“I had a dear friend who specialized in ancient verse,” Zelda said. “He was quite the poet himself, too.”

“So is Kass,” Link noted.

“Well that is wonderful,” Zelda said. “I’m glad to have met another scholar and a great musician. Your playing is truly masterful.”

If Rito could blush, Kass would have. He seemed quite flustered. “Ah, thank you both. I have been composing some on the road, in the same style as the ancient verses my teacher and I studied. In fact, I am working on a tribute to the Hero and the Princess who must have recently defeated the Calamity—for Hyrule Castle is free, the Guardians are dead, and the dark fiends have scattered to the far corners of Hyrule.”

Kass’s accordion wheezed as he clutched it tightly to his chest. “But in order to see this dream to fruition, I must learn more about the Champions long ago… So I am traveling to places I know they once stood, to try and bring myself closer to them.” He sighed wistfully. “I could play you something more complete, if you’d like.”

Zelda was about to protest that he needn’t trouble himself, but Link interrupted. “Thank you, Kass. Please.”

_"An ancient evil, the Calamity appeared,_   
_Resurrected after 10,000 years._   
_On that darkest day, the Knight gave his life:_   
_Shield of the Goddess, he paid the price._

_In the darkest hour, the Goddess awoke._   
_She stood her ground, though her heart broke;_   
_her eternal love would give her the power_   
_to beat the Calamity back—in the castle, it cowers!_

_Fear not, Hyrule, your Hero survives:_   
_in the Shrine of Resurrection, he was kept alive!_   
_For one hundred years, our Champion slept,_   
_until, today, out of healing dreams he stepped._

_Beware, Chosen Knight, deadly trials lay in wait:_   
_to regain your strength; fulfill your fate._   
_Find Courage to become a Hero once again!_   
_Then wrest our Princess from evil's den!_

_For one hundred years, we prayed for that day,_   
_while the Goddess has kept the evil at bay._   
_She battles the demon so Hyrule may heal;_   
_And we await her return, for evil to seal._

_Hyrule, have faith! Your saviors return!_   
_You will have the peace for which your hearts yearn._   
_One day, your Hero, your Princess–hand in hand–_   
_Will bring Divine Light back to this land.”_

It was difficult to breathe. In the vacuum left by Kass’s regal accordion and reedy voice, there seemed no room for sound. Link had moved close to her during the song, and without turning she had reached behind her for his hands. He had _known_ what it would mean to her to hear proof that her people remembered her. Zelda was not sure which touched her more: the song, or her Champion's thoughtfulness.

Zelda’s face was wet with tears though she had not felt them fall. She wondered, though she did not look, if Link had been likewise touched by the sentiment.

“My late teacher hoped to play that for the Hero and the Goddess-blood Princess when they returned in victory. No matter how much time passed, he always kept faith in them.” Kass bowed his head toward Link and Zelda. “I am certain his spirit is at peace now that his wish has come true.”

It was Zelda’s job, as a princess, to have words when there were no words—to express gratitude when gifts were given, no matter how meaningful or meaningless. Yet it was so difficult to thank Kass, because it was clear he knew what it meant to her, but she could not articulate that even to herself.

“Kass, I will keep your gift close to my heart, always,” Zelda said at last. “What you have given me was truly priceless. Goddess bless you.”

Kass bowed deeply. “Thank you, Princess.” When he straightened up, he offered both of them a smile. “I will be on my way, then. Our paths will cross again, I’m sure. May the light illuminate yours.”

The Hero and the Princess stood together in silence as the bard flew off for far away lands. In that moment, completely shrouded in Link’s warmth and smell and presence, with Kass’s song still ringing in her heart, she felt the love she had for him swell to bursting.

Finally, he stepped away from her, though he kept hold of one hand. “What now, Zelda?”

“I…” She wanted to explore the Great Plateau. She wanted to see what remained of the place she had visited so often on pilgrimage. She had always felt a deep connection to the Temple of Time for its central role in so many of the tales of the Princess with the Sealing Power.

But it was dark and her heart was heavy, and as Link was fond of saying—they had all the time in the world.

“Let’s go home.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace as he took out the Slate to send them back to Hateno. His heart beat steadily under her ear, and when he wrapped one arm around the back of her shoulders to pull her tighter, she knew that she didn’t have to say thank you. He already knew.

 

The next morning, Zelda pored over the map and laid out all the things left for the Hero to do, for the sake of completion: activate the remaining Towers, complete the map of Hyrule, and solve the remaining Shrines.

“Don’t forget all the things the Hero _wants_ to do,” Link chided, his mouth full of breakfast. “I wanna find that ancient armor. Still gotta free the last of the Great Fairies. Find Hudson a priest. Find Misko’s stolen treasures.” He took another bite, but continued to speak. “Granté was right, though. We just need to choose a direction and walk. The other stuff will happen naturally along the way.”

“Then there’s the trials the Golden Ones surely have in store for us.” Zelda sighed. “And all of the tasks of regaining command of my kingdom and rebuilding it.”

“Again, I think that’ll all fall into place as we go.” Link cleared away their bowls and cutlery and went to the wash basin. “Before we start adventuring, you need new clothes, probably something to defend yourself with, and we need to come up with a way of finding each other if we ever get separated.”

“Well, some of that is easily taken care of. If I carry the travel medallion, you will always be able to find me, won’t you?” Zelda propped her chin on her hands as she watched him work. “We can pick up my things from the tailor today. The Sheikah certainly have some weapons meant for the royal women.”

“That would require us going to Kakariko and explaining to Impa why you aren’t immediately returning to your throne.” Link raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you that keen to get on the road?”

Zelda hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes,” she said firmly. “We needn’t be swift about it, but…I think it would be good for us to be on the road again.”

She did not add that she had noticed how he came alive in the wilderness, or surrounded by the people of Hyrule—how he seemed to belong to the kingdom in every way, despite his clear effort to carve a piece of solitude out for himself here in Hateno. She did not tell him that he felt the most like _her_ Champion when they walked together, as they had for so many months one hundred years ago.

 

The outfits were everything Zelda had wanted and more. She would certainly be well-equipped to climb and run and jump and ride in comfort. Best of all, they complemented the greens and blues of most of Link’s wardrobe. He had chosen to wear his Hylian travel garb, though he kept his hair up in a Sheikah bun; he still hadn’t found another hair tie since giving Zelda his.

She changed into one of the new outfits and left the rest for Link to pack into his bottomless bag. Then she took his hand and allowed him to take her to Kakariko.

She was startled to find the Shine so high above the village, perched like a watchful guardian on the hill. “I usually jump from here,” Link admitted. “That way I don’t have to deal with the fanfare.” He led the way down the path instead, and indeed they were met with quite a bit of fanfare the moment they set foot in the village proper. Most of it was for Link, and most of it was in the form of excited children. Little Sheikah girls grabbed fistfuls of Link’s pants and cloak and begged him to come play with them, congratulated him on “van-squishing the thing!” Zelda laughed delightedly at that.

But when they drew closer to the Impa’s house at the center of town, men and women began to sing and shout. Some fell to their knees in prayer; others, in fright and awe. The clamor was overwhelming, and Zelda froze in the midst of the crowd. She had not been holding Link’s hand as they walked, and for a brief moment after she stopped in her tracks, he was swallowed up by the mass of Sheikah admirers who pressed in on all sides to seek a blessing from their Goddess-Blood Princess. Then Link was there, and his hand was in hers, and he pulled her to safety.

The thought filled her with sour guilt. She was not supposed to _flee_ from her own people.

When the doors swung closed heavily behind her, Link went to fetch Impa from upstairs. The room was large and empty and cold despite the summer air outside, and Zelda felt small and powerless in it. The large painting of Blatchery Plain was a plaintive reminder of her failures and what she had lost.

It hit her then, that this was the moment she was about to meet Impa for the first time in one hundred years, and Zelda considered running out the door and all the way back to Hateno. Link would find her there—

Link returned, slowly, with a small, decrepit woman on his arm, and Zelda could only watch as Impa hobbled down the stairs to join her. For surely, the tiny, elderly Sheikah, dwarfed as she was by her ceremonial hat, was Impa. The wicked gleam in her eye was enough to tell her so.

“So you found the courage to face me, Princess Zelda.” There was a note of gentle teasing in her voice. “I know, I know. There is business to discuss. But please…give an old friend a hug.”

Zelda flew to Impa’s side and fell to her knees to embrace her friend, her forever-unseen ally through every courtly trouble since the day she was born. Zelda was overcome by all that was familiar about Impa, all that hadn’t changed in one hundred years: her scent, her laughter, the steely strength of her arms around her.

“I am so glad—” Zelda stopped herself. She was so glad that Impa had been spared, had survived, was alive, but every word seemed too morbid and too sad. And she was, truly, happy.

“I am glad, too,” Impa replied good-naturedly. “Now, Link says I’m not to cajole you about royal matters, and that is well and good. I understand that the Goddesses are not done with you poor souls quite yet. But do you have a moment or two to spend over tea with an old friend?”

Zelda’s eyes stung. How could she be so petulant to have wanted to stay away? “Of course,” she told Impa. “I have all the time in the world.”

Impa glanced over her shoulder at the stairs. “Paya, I know you’re eavesdropping, so put a kettle on and join us.”

“Her granddaughter,” Link explained, and he helped Impa to her pillows to sit. His eyes met Zelda’s, a question in them that he did not need to voice. There was something he needed to do, but he would not leave her if she did not want him to.

She would be fine. Impa had made it clear that she would not press Zelda, at least not now.

Zelda nodded shortly at Link, and he vanished out the door a moment later.


	8. All is Fair (in Love and War).

Zelda could not contain herself once Link was gone.

“I love him, Impa.” The issue hadn’t even been on the list of things she wished to speak to Impa about, and yet it was the only thing she could say now that she was face-to-face with her old, dear friend. Every time Zelda closed her eyes, she could not help but feel that she was sitting beside her Sheikah bodyguard and tutor as she had so often as a young woman—well, she was still a young woman—but _before_.

Impa, though her physical form was foreign to Zelda, reacted just as she would have one hundred years ago. “I’m glad _you_ know that,” Impa said sarcastically. “At what point in your one hundred years did you come to this realization?”

“It was before,” Zelda said, a little indignantly. “I think I knew it after he saved me from the Yiga outside Gerudo Town…but I did not allow myself to accept it until the Castle had fallen, until he and I seemed the only living creatures in the world…and then—” Zelda paused, careful. If she continued down that path, she would cry, and she knew that she would not be able to stop.

“He is different now,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I don’t know whether to hope that the Link I knew will be restored, or if I should try to love the man that he is now, or not at all—” The way Impa stared at her made the words die in Zelda’s throat. “What?”

“There are many things to tell you, Princess,” Impa replied. “I wonder if it is best to simply let you find out. I will say this: old age wreaks havoc on memory, and yet we still love our elders for who they are to us. Even when they do not recall every detail of our relationships, or the things that brought us together in laughter or in tears, we love them still.”

Zelda could tell that Impa had thought long and hard over this matter in her own old age. Impa was perhaps the only elder Sheikah remaining, though she had been one of many in her generation. If not all had given their lives against the Calamity, if some had grown old with her, surely they had succumbed to the twilight of life Impa spoke of now.

Impa’s hat jingled as she bowed her head. “The man you loved was the Hero, and Link has risked his life to embody the Hero once more.” She sighed. “The world is new, and even you—with all your memory intact—have the chance to become, to grow, to define what it means to be Zelda, in this new world. It was what Link had to do.”

Heavy silence fell upon the two friends as the realization sank in. She wanted to slouch forward and allow the weight she carried to overcome her, but what Impa told her was nothing she had not already known. “It is only fair,” Zelda whispered, her hands clasped in her lap.

Paya came down with a tray of tea a moment later, and her eyes widened in fear as she sensed the somber atmosphere of the room. Though her hands shook as she poured a cup for Zelda and then Impa, she did not spill a drop.

“Your Highness,” she whispered, bowed, and turned to flee.

“Thank you, Paya. Your grandmother must be very grateful for your help here.”

“I—I try, Your Highness—”

“Please. You may address me as anything but that. Titles like that make me feel my age.”

Impa chortled at the joke, though Paya remained as flustered as ever as she left. “So what is the direction you have received from the Golden Ones, Princess?”

“To unlock the full power of the Triforce,” Zelda said reverently. “I believe that part of it is to do penance for having despaired in my duty. My faith was weak, and now I must prove it to the Triune Mothers. But I also believe that it is necessary for me to do this, if I intend to rebuild my kingdom.”

“Indeed,” Impa hummed. “A Goddess Incarnate, wielding the full power of the Triforce, would be a beacon of hope to her people and a mighty foe to those with darkness in their hearts. Where must you go?”

“That, I do not know. Link seems to have an idea, but he also likes to say that these things reveal themselves to him on their own.” Zelda shrugged. “I think we will set off on foot, like we did so often in the past.”

“Just the two of you, hm?” Impa raised her eyebrows. “Your kingdom is a much wilder place, and the roads are more dangerous—even without the Calamity’s forces roaming about. I have no doubt you will be safe with Link, but, Princess…”

Zelda nodded. “I know, Impa. That is partly why we’ve come. I will have Link train me in some self-defense, but I have no weapons of my own. I know that many of the Goddess-blessed weapons were kept deep in the Castle, but I also happen to remember that they were rumored to be forgeries. The Sheikah kept the true artifacts hidden and safe.”

Impa’s hat jingled as she tilted her head in consideration. “Your father would never approve,” she said. “I love the idea. It is true that we possess several weapons your ancestors used. I will give you only one. You will need to prove some expertise with it before I trust you will not kill yourself with the others.”

 _Fair enough,_ Zelda thought. She bowed her head in gratitude.

“He was an excellent student and a wonderful teacher himself,” Impa continued. “His trainees were always the best of the Guard. I doubt he has lost his touch.”

 

When Zelda finally dared to venture outside, she found Link had not, in fact, lost his touch. Whatever his earlier task had been, he now stood bare-chested in the middle of the village, a tree branch in hand as he taught several Sheikah a series of complicated parries. Some of his students were small children, perhaps even the children of the older men who wielded real swords as they practiced.

Zelda, on a hunch, cast a glance up at the upstairs window of Impa’s house. Paya’s face was glued to the scene below, just as she had suspected.

When Link noticed that Zelda waited for him at the top of the stairs, he bowed to his students, ruffled the children’s hair, and returned to her side laden with his shirt and his belongings. “That’s pretty,” he noted.

His eyes were on the sword she had buckled at her hip. She drew the blade for him to examine. It was a long, white blade forged from star-stone, and the symbol of Hylia—the Triforce pursued by her loftwing—was engraved prominently in the gold at the base of the blade. It was light in her hand.

“You’ll need to learn to move fast,” Link told her. “That sword is meant to skewer hearts, and a lot of them.”

“You’ll need to teach me,” she replied. “I have said goodbye to Impa. Have you finished your business in town?”

Link nodded and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. “We’re ready.”

“Then let us heed the words of the Golden Goddesses and return the Slate to its pedestal.”

He offered her his arm, and the aura took them away from Kakariko.

 

When they rematerialized, Zelda found that they were in a cave illuminated by blue aura and amber stone. The cavern was dusty and smelled like pine and damp. She turned to look around and saw a doorway behind them. Inside, a Sheikah terminal hung from the ceiling, and a basin was set into the ground below it.

“The Shrine of Resurrection,” she said in awe.

Link followed her to what the texts had described as a healing bay, but it felt every inch a tomb.

“Do you want to do the honors?”

She turned to see him standing beside a Sheikah pedestal just like those in front of the Shrines; an empty slot awaited the Slate.

She took it from his hands and placed it in its pedestal.

_Sheikah Slate verified. Champion verification complete. Activating the Divine Beast Tamer’s Trial._

The Slate turned around in its spot to reveal the map of the Great Plateau. Four new, golden markers blinked up at them. 

_Take the Slate, Children._

The voice in her head and all around her was distant and booming, and it was a voice of many voices. She realized now that they spoke in an ancient Sheikah dialect she recognized but was shocked to understand. Link was clearly accustomed to Divine intrusions such as this, and his voice was carefully placid.

He nodded at her to obey the Golden Ones’ command.

Zelda took the Slate from the pedestal once more and held it close to her as aura coalesced beside them. A strange shape materialized—it was four-pronged and made of stone, like most ancient technology, but it bore no amber inlays or Sheikah text. Each prong was topped with a carving of a Divine Beast’s face, and a white ribbon tassel was tied below it.

It hung, stationary, above the ground, and the ribbons fluttered in a nonexistent wind.

Zelda looked at Link, who now seemed a little concerned. Zelda handed him the Slate and approached the artifact.

The moment she touched the handle, her fingers would not let go of it. Link gasped behind her in pain, and she whirled around, artifact still in hand, just in time to see him stagger. A strange red aura surrounded him as he fought to stay upright, and the artifact in hand began to glow red as well.

“Link!” Zelda cried, reaching for him with her free hand.

“Don’t!” Link snapped in reply. “This is their will.”

The red aura around him shattered into particles that dissipated in the air, and the red-hot glow of the artifact turned blue-white with the power of the Sheikah.

“Are you alright?” Zelda knelt beside him, her heart racing with fear and worry. “What was that?”

“They took away all the strength the Goddess gave me.” His face was more pained and fatigued than she had seen it since that terrible day on Blatchery Plain. Even when he had faced the Calamity and fallen to his knees before her in exhaustion, he had not looked so weakened. “And then some.”

 _That which you seek requires unwavering dedication,_ the Golden Ones intoned.

Zelda immediately felt a pang of hot resentment and guilt. It was clear that the Goddesses remembered her words of despair and anger at their Springs, and they threw those words back at her now.

Zelda inhaled deeply and forced her thoughts to settle.

 _This weapon defeats all foes with a single hit. However, the reverse is also true. The Hero will also fall to a single strike. You may use this weapon’s ability only when it glows. Only the Goddess may wield it. Go to the four marked locations within the Great Plateau… Defeat all monsters present… Prove your power_.

The Goddesses were gone, and Zelda could finally drop the weapon in her hand. She braced Link with both hands. “Oh no,” she said. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

“We can do this,” Link replied with a smile. It was strained. “It’s just a teaching experience.”

“But you will die for my ineptitude!” Zelda cried.

Link shrugged and lay back on the dusty stone floor of the Shrine. “Then drag me back here. The Towers are activated, it won’t take a century for me to revive this time.” He grinned a little wider at her aghast expression. She raised her hand to strike him, then froze. “I don’t think you can kill me,” he noted. “But I appreciate your patience, _Princess.”_

She swore at him and sat back on the ground beside him. She could not voice the panic that had risen in her chest. “They mock me,” she moaned finally. “They mock my pain and they forget my one hundred years of captivity!”

“They are older than forgiveness. Or fairness. Or kindness.” Link’s voice was soft and as serious as death. “Courage. Wisdom. Power. That is all they know. Hylia was the one who taught us mercy, and justice…” He trailed off, physically and emotionally exhausted.

“I suppose no elixir I could give you would restore your strength.” Zelda glanced at the glowing weapon beside her and cursed it, too.

“Doesn’t matter.” He closed his eyes. “You fight Lynels with brute strength. Everything else, you fight with cunning and pragmatism.”

“I wish we had slept for a week, like you had suggested,” Zelda whispered.

“I’d still be robbed of strength and on the verge of death at some point or another,” Link pointed out. “Come on, help me up. Your fancy sword lessons will have to wait, I suppose."

They consulted the map and decided to venture to the monster base near the Sheikah Tower. Zelda found herself jumping at every noise in the wilderness as they made their way due south of the Temple of Time.

Link groaned when, through the Sheikah Slate’s Scope, they saw the base was populated with lizalfos.

“They’re the most annoying,” he muttered. “They’re fast.” He set down the Scope. “We need to be stealthy, which means we need to be slow. The Goddesses said nothing of using other weapons, nor elixirs, so we’re going to cheat until someone tells us not to.”

“I like the sound of that,” Zelda admitted.

“They have a ton of those red barrels, too. They explode when they’re struck, so be careful, but we can use them to our advantage. The green lizalfos will fall to an arrow or to a bomb, but the red ones are tougher. You’ll need to use the weapon for them. Fortunately there’s only two of them.”

Zelda smiled darkly. “What a coincidence.”

“We’ll pick them off one-by-one, and if we need to, we can retreat back here before they even notice.” Link clasped her hand tightly. “You can do this, Zelda.”

They each downed a powerful stealth elixir that tasted like moonlight and poison. When no Divine voices berated them, they set off for the back of the camp. It was set on a cliff that looked down at the base of the Sheikah Tower and a skull-shaped fortress, but only two lizalfos stood guard on the cliffs—and, as Link had seen from afar, they stood beside several barrels of explosives.

Once they got in range, Link and Zelda crouched behind a makeshift barrier the lizalfos had erected, likely to avoid archers. Unfortunately for them, the archer in question was sneaky.

Link knocked a flame arrow back; its tip smoldered slightly and smelled of smoke.

Upon impact, the barrels of explosives rained down on the lizalfos on the cliffs, and Zelda watched with relief as they collapsed into piles of ash and darkness—and then disappeared into a puff of purple-black smoke.

Link and Zelda sneaked their way forward and pushed boulders off the edge of the cliffs onto the lizalfos below, and their enemies were none the wiser. They carefully threw the remaining explosives down on them, too, until finally their only living enemies were the decayed Guardian at the edge of the cliff, and two pesky lizalfo archers in the distance.

“Take out the Guardian,” Link whispered in her ear. “Strike it quickly!”

Zelda did not allow herself to think, though that was all she thought she was good for. Now, if she gave herself the time to think, she would freeze—for this was certainly a terrible decision, to run headfirst at an active Guardian.

But before the Guardian even noticed she was there, she brought the stone weapon down on its ancient hull. In a flash of aura, the Guardian’s animating spirit dissipated and it exploded into a rain of parts.

“Great! Come back!”

Link’s loud whisper called her back to him before either of the lizalfos could come inspect the wreckage. “I’ll take one, you take the other,” Link suggested. “Don’t worry about me.” At the fearful look she gave him, he drew the Master Sword. “I have my own one-hit weapon,” he reminded her.

She nodded, though she truly wanted to suggest that they take care of the lizalfos one-by-one together. But her Hero seemed fearless, and after all this time, she knew to trust him.

So she stalked off to face one of the red lizalfos by herself, with the Sheikah weapon in hand.

It spotted her at enough of a distance to aim a bomb arrow at her. She ran to the side, and she was fast enough that the first arrow missed her by a mile. Then she changed course and ran full-tilt at the lizalfo as it fumbled with its next arrow.

She could feel the heat of the arrow on her face, smell the slimy, poisonous scent of the lizard monster—her heart was in her throat as she swung her weapon and hoped that she was faster than the lizalfo’s draw.

She was. Barely.

As the lizalfo disintegrated, Zelda could only stand and gasp for air. Her mind was blank and panicked. She had killed it. Something living—and she had taken its life away. Lizalfos knew to wear armor, to walk upright, but they had no qualms about killing Hylians and eating them raw. And yet—

The ground shuddered violently, and Zelda whipped around to see a Sheikah Shrine rising up from the ground between her and Link. It was different than the Shrines she had seen—its roof was not as round, but rather extended high into the air like a monument.

Link caught up to her as she tried to catch her breath. There was joy on his face. “I saw that!” he proclaimed. “That was close.”

She was not comforted to know that her victory had been _close_. But the look in his eye—the pride, the satisfaction, the relief—was fulfilling. He put his hands heavily on her arms, his grip tight. His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You doing okay?”

“I know this is what we were supposed to do, but… And they were going to kills u otherwise, but I can’t help…” Zelda took a deep breath and looked up into Link’s eyes. She had always wondered how many people—people, not monsters—he had killed. She knew it was a nonzero number, and that he had killed in her name and her father’s name. But she had never asked him that, and he had surely forgotten the number.

She wondered, in the pregnant moment that passed between them, if he had had these feelings when he first killed a ‘bin or a ‘fo after leaving the Shrine of Resurrection. When had he first known that the world was dangerous, that it was kill or be killed?

Life in the Wild had changed him, too, and though his eyes were not haunted and bitter as they once had been, they were still the eyes of her Hero.

Link did not have anything to say, or perhaps there was nothing one could say. The feeling of her first kill was an uneasy one, but it was one she would have to live with.

“I’ll pick up the spare arrows and supplies,” Link said finally. “If you want to activate the Shrine. I’ll be there in a sec.”


	9. Obliterator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!

Zelda made her way to the Rohta Chigah Shrine with adrenaline still racing through her veins. She felt like she needed to do jumping jacks to relieve herself of it, as though she were a coiled spring wound tight and ready to release.

She had calmed some by the time Link joined her. He did not move quite as swiftly as he usually did, and she could tell that he would very much like to rest—though he would never say.

They entered the Shrine, and Zelda’s jaw dropped at what happened next.

The circular platform they stood on hummed and began to sink into a tunnel of light. Link wrapped one arm around her to keep her steady, but she was hardly aware of it. She could see the layout of the whole Shrine, and it was far more vast than any of Link’s pictures could have conveyed. She recognized sacred constellations in the amber patterns on the walls, and she marveled at the white light that filtered in from above.

Their footsteps echoed on the stone as they stepped off of the dais and into the challenge.

_To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Rohta Chigah. In the names of the Golden Ones, I offer this trial._

Link led Zelda over to a raised ramp, and they looked over their first challenge. The floor was covered in spikes, and metal blocks and platforms bounced and shifted as the spikes withdrew and rose up again to some unknown timing.

“This is a job for Magnesis,” Zelda noted. “We should make a path across, first, then jump one platform per bounce.”

“Sounds good to me. But be careful of your footing. Those things are a little slippery.”

They carefully positioned the metal sheets to get most of the way across the shifting sea of spikes. Then they stood in the middle of it all and tried to aim Magnesis again. It was difficult—every time Zelda locked on to something, the platform they stood on shifted, and she dropped the metal block or platform she had nearly picked up.

Finally, they had crossed to the other side and positioned the hollow metal cube—whose sides were conveniently patterned in a ladder-like lattice—to allow them to climb, one at a time, into the next phase of the trial.

Sweat rolled down Zelda’s face. Her nerves were well and truly shattered, but her spirits had been lifted by the Sheikah technology and the cleverness of the trials.

“Now, Stasis!” she proclaimed and ran to the giant, turning gears that were their only path forward.

“Wait!” Link hurried to catch up. “These are really tricky. I think it’s much better to just run as fast as you can rather than use Stasis.”

“Are you sure?” Zelda was nervous at the suggestion of running through all this. “What if I trip? Or tire?”

“What if Stasis runs out in thirty seconds and you need it immediately afterward?” Link retorted. “You’ll find yourself running anyway.”

She crossed her arms. “Perhaps I can outrun you in your weakened state.”

He grinned at her, clearly relieved that she wasn’t too cross at him. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’d like to lead the way, in case there are Guardians.”

She shuddered. “If you insist… After you.”

“Ready?”

He took off at a sprint, and she followed as best she could. Running on a spinning platform was a harder task than she expected, and the ever-present knowledge that giant spikes were waiting to impale her if she made one misstep only seemed to make her more clumsy. When they jumped off the spinning gears and onto a continuously rolling platform surrounded on both sides by spinning walls of spikes, Zelda nearly froze in fright—but Link never paused. He ran even faster to maintain his momentum and direction, and emerged on the other side.

Zelda flung herself at him as she crossed the end of the rolling platform. He caught her dutifully.

“That was terrifying!” She wiped her face against her sleeve and then covered her eyes, but perhaps should have covered her ears. The persistent, unending sound of gears whirring and her own heart thumping in her ears threatened to send her into a panic attack.

He held her close, though both were uncomfortably warm after their sprint. “I was scared,” he admitted into her hair.

She looked up at him once again, as she had in the past, and she was taken aback by the open expression on his face. He had been afraid, not just for her sake, but yes, for her sake.

Zelda felt her flushed cheeks burn hotter

It came time to continue, and they seemed to be at an impasse.

“What if one of us were to use the paraglider to make it down, but we attached a metal object to it so the other could Magnesis it back up here?”

“Magnesis doesn’t have that far of a range,” Link said dolefully. “I think you’ll just have to hold on tight, and I’ll just have to aim really, really well.” Link seemed very nervous about the idea, despite being the one to have suggested it. “I’m going to take an elixir for strength,” he said. “I think you might want one, too.”

He was right. They each drank one and stood at the edge of the ravine to face their certain doom. The giant metal balls were covered in giant metal spikes, and they danced and dangled and jerked unpredictably. “If we can get around one, we can glide under the others,” Link said, more to himself.

“What happens if we _fall_ , Link?”

He did not meet her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it. I always assumed they wouldn’t kill the Hero.”

“Well, _that’s_ reassuring.” Zelda sighed. “One way to find out.”

Link bent his knees to take her up onto his back, and she hooked her arms up under his own so that she could have some leverage without choking him to death. “Cross your legs,” he told her, and she linked her ankles together against his waist. He opened his paraglider and hopped to test if it would even hold two people’s weight. It seemed steady enough.

“Don’t let go.”

Zelda’s stomach dropped the moment Link’s feet left the floor. He had taken a running start and easily dodged the first metal ball, but the second one seemed destined to hit them. It moved faster than it physically should have, and Zelda was certain—

Link lowered their course just in time, and the spikes whooshed above their heads. They continued in their path, dead-on toward the last obstacle, but Link leaned forward, tightened his grip on the paraglider, and they zipped past the last metal ball.

The Hero and the Princess collapsed on the floor, relieved to be on solid ground once more. Zelda could have cried, and she rolled over onto her side to take stock of Link. His face was white with exertion, but the elixir had been enough to save his arms. He gave her a weak thumbs-up.

She took the liberty to fling an arm across his chest and rest her head on his shoulder. One of his own arms came across her back and held on to her for dear life.

They lay together without speaking and tried to catch their breaths. “We could just sleep here,” Link suggested in a voice that was hardly more than a rumble in his chest. “It’d be more safe than outside.”

“Good idea.”

So they slept on the ground until their bodies woke them naturally. There was no telling how much time had passed, but their bodies had recovered enough to continue—for there was more to this trial.

Link was loathe to release her. His grip on her shoulder tightened when she moved to stand. “I always assumed they’d let me live,” he said to the ceiling, “because Hyrule needed me. But it doesn’t now.”

His words struck Zelda like a blow to the gut, and her breath caught in her throat as her words failed her once again. His voice had been matter-of-fact, but there was a note in it that betrayed his true feelings—a slight tremor, or a catch. She knew the feeling, anyway.

“We have to believe that it does,” she said finally. “It needs their Goddess, and she needs her Hero.”

He let her stand, though she was loathe to leave his arms, and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve when he thought she wasn’t looking. She did not press him further; she was beginning to see how much of his strength the Goddess had given him over his journey, and how much the Golden Ones had taken away.

They hopped down to the next platform, and Link let Zelda pounce on the button set into the floor. Together they turned to watch as the wall behind them opened to reveal floor-to-ceiling rows of spikes.

“At least it’s moving kind of slow,” Link noted. “Let’s go.”

They had to practice utmost patience to cross the bridge to the monk. Even when it seemed that the last spiked mechanism had launched itself at them, another seemed to strike. More than once, Link had scooped her off her feet and set her aside just before a spike inhabited the very spot she had stood a moment before. But, finally, they stood before the ancient Sheikah Monk, and Link gestured for Zelda to touch the cage of aura that surrounded him.

It shattered into droplets of rainwater that hit her face without leaving her wet. It was a familiar sensation, and her fuzzy, blurry memories of the past one hundred years stirred… but there was no time to reflect on the peculiarity of it all, for the monk had begun to speak.

_Your resourcefulness in overcoming this trial speaks to the promise of the Hero…and the strength of the Goddess Hylia. I bestow upon you these gifts. May they aid you in your quest, and the light illuminate your path…_

The air rippled as something moved between the monk and his guests; Zelda saw something disturb the cloth that lay across Link’s breast, and his hand went to cover his heart. His eyes, in turn, were on her; Zelda felt something brush against her, then envelop her in warmth.

Link’s eyes were wide. “What did they give you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure?” She reached for his hand and lightly touched the place where something had entered his chest. “What did they give you?”

“The Shrines were built to impart Spirit Orbs upon the Hero,” he said. “They were badges to mark my courage—and when I prayed to…the Goddess, she would reward me with great strength or stamina.”

Zelda frowned. She had no idea what the monks could possibly give _her_ , then. She doubted that the Golden Ones would grant her anything in return for prayer.

“Let’s return to the surface,” Link said finally. “We have three more monster camps to defeat and three more Shrines to conquer.”

She took his hand, and they used the Slate to return to the Travel Gate outside the Shrine. “Should you return to the Temple of Time, to pray, first?” Zelda asked.

“I only have three spirit orbs right now,” Link said. “To receive a blessing, I would need four. But—regardless—” He stopped himself.

“What is it, Link?”

He met her gaze with a carefully neutral expression. “I know where Hylia is, and I will not find her in the Temple of Time.”

_Of course._

Zelda would have smacked herself if she had thought it would lighten the mood. Instead, she stared back at Link and tried to convey, without words, how sorry she was for forgetting, for never remembering in the first place.

He turned without another word, and they set off for the next enemy base in the Forest of Spirits.

They took care of the keese first, at a distance, so that the monstrous cloud would not pinpoint their location for their other enemies. Then, they carefully scaled one of the giant, fallen tree trunks, and gave the bokoblin who sat guard up top an ice arrow to the head.

Link’s careful aim sent another bokoblin archer, whom Zelda had not noticed, flying off of its perch atop a tree nearby. “Good!” Zelda whispered encouragingly, and before Link could say anything else, she jumped down from their hiding spot and landed, ancient-Sheikah weapon-first, on an unsuspecting bokoblin.

Its companion fell to the one-hit weapon, and the rumble of the earth alerted Link and Zelda to the appearance of the Shrine.

“I like bokos,” Zelda decided. “They are somehow much less terrifying.”

“I feel sorrier for them,” Link said as they activated the Shrine. “They’re stupider.”

_I am Yowaka Ita… In the name of the Mothers Three, I offer this trial._

“So we’re looking for an orb that looks like the Sheikah Heirloom Impa has in her house,” Link proclaimed immediately. “It’ll probably be at the very end, and we’re going to have to carry it all the way back. But the monk is here—so you could wait, if you want.”

She understood that he meant, _please wait._ The trial seemed particularly geared towards one person, but she could see the same spikey balls as he could.

“Link, one strike and you are dead,” she said flatly. “I am in much better shape to get a nick here or there—and I can use Magnesis just fine. Let me.”

His words of protest stumbled over each other clumsily on their way out of his mouth, and she did not bother to make sense of them. Instead, she plucked the Slate from his hip, powered up Magnesis, and grabbed a spikey ball. She dropped it on the ground beside her, waited, and had her hypothesis confirmed. Though it seemed as though there were an endless supply of spikey balls falling from the ceiling and falling to the void below, they were in fact all the same balls. Remove one, and it would not be replenished.

She gave Link a smug glance over her shoulder and removed the next spikey ball. Then, she gracefully avoided the falling stones and made her way to the next platform.

It took her a few tries to scoop the Sheikah orb from its maze-like, dynamic puzzle across the Shrine from her, but eventually she managed to lower it right in front of her using the giant metal dish that had been left for her. The chest that lay teasingly just beyond the nearest gate was not worth her time, so instead she lifted the dish with the Sheikah orb still inside it and carefully placed it beside Link, in the distance.

He did not move until she had rejoined him. “Don’t get cocky,” he said, finally.

She smirked and reached deep into the metal dish to pick up the heavy Sheikah orb.

Yowaka Ita made the same proclamation as Rohta Chigah had, and he bestowed upon them the same gifts: a spirit orb for the Hero, and an unknown, invisible gift for the Goddess-blood Princess.

The remaining enemy camps were on the other side of the Plateau, to the southwest of the Temple. They could see one from the hill on which the Temple sat.

“That’s a lot of lizalfos and moblins,” Zelda said.

“Yeah,” Link said grimly, “and a lot of explosives.”

He reached into his pack and picked out a strange, hefty bow. It was ridged with sharp steel, like an axe. “Lynel,” he explained. “It somehow knocks one arrow and fires three.”

“And _you_ defeated the Lynel who owned it?!”

“Yeah, he was a bitch.”

Zelda laughed, then covered her mouth. “Stealth,” she reminded herself, if only to see Link laugh.

They set off for the enemy camp and found themselves a perch on the cliffs nearby from which they could shoot most of their enemies down. When naught but some distant archers remained, Link and Zelda scattered to draw their fire, and Zelda took care of them with the ancient Sheikah weapon.

“It deserves a name,” she said, breathlessly, as they rejoined at the mouth of the Shrine.

“Pain-in-the-Ass,” Link suggested. “Motherfucker. Obliterator.”

“We’ll put Obliterator in the history books, but Motherfucker is much more satisfying.”

Link ruffled her hair playfully. “You’ve found quite the dirty mouth in your old age,” he said lightly.

Ruvo Korbah interrupted them.

_At the will of the Triune Goddesses, I offer this combat trial._

Link’s mood darkened immediately, and he took the Slate out to check the name of their trial.

“Nope,” he proclaimed. “You are _not_ going into a Major Test of Strength.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. “No, _you_ are not going into a Major Test of Strength,” she retorted. “You, with half the strength of an infant! Me, with the Motherfucker itself!”

They couldn’t help but smile at each other after that.

“The floor is water. I’ll trap it with Cryonis and you can hit it from there.”

“That hardly sounds sporting,” Zelda noted, but it was a good plan—and if it satisfied Link enough to allow her to participate, she would accept it.

They had taken a total of five steps inside the arena when the gate behind them slammed shut. The deep pit at the center of the room began to rise, and they were met with a sleeping Guardian. It woke as the platform locked into place; its stem rose up from its legs, and three arms unfolded from its inner workings. It wielded a sword, a shield, and a spear made of aura-made-solid.

Zelda did not give it time to move much more than that. She ignored Link’s startled cry and delivered two blows from the Obliterator before Guardian or Link realized what was happening.

The Guardian blew to smithereens and showered screws down upon her.

She spun around, her heels kicking up a rooster-tail of water as she went. “We’re almost done,” she said. “Let’s not waste any time!”

Link was quiet for a while as they crossed the arena and collected the bomb arrows at the end. “I hope you don’t get in the habit of running into danger,” he said finally, and stepped on the button at the end of the Shrine. They turned to watch the platform in the center drop down again, tensed and ready for another battle, but none came.

“You know I only do it because I know you’ll never let me get hurt,” Zelda replied and set back off for the next stage of the Shrine. Link cursed himself in her wake.

It was dark in the bowels of the Shrine. The floor was still covered with water, and its distant sloshing obscured whatever monsters may have lain in wait for them around the corners of their maze.

Link listened carefully nonetheless, and he raised his shield. “There are more Guardians,” he said in a voice barely a whisper.

They crept along the wall, where a walkway was raised above the water. The Guardian saw them immediately despite their caution, and it began to charge its laser.

Link parried the laser effortlessly, and the Guardian burst into dust.  
Zelda exhaled slowly. “I will never understand how you can do that,” she whispered. “It terrifies me every time.”

“Time,” he replied cryptically, and they continued on.

More Guardians awaited them, but Zelda took care of them with the Obliterator, and they retreated whenever it need to recharge. They found their way to a chest that contained a small key and entered the last stage of the Shrine.

Link held his arm out to bar her path, and he erected a barrier of three Cryonis blocks to block the Guardians’ view of them as they entered.

There were too many Guardians to count. “We’re going to snipe them,” Link said, leaving no room for argument, and that is what they did.

When the final Guardian was destroyed, the gate opened and the monk was revealed to them. Link had to carry Zelda on his back again, briefly, to glide down to the next platform, but then they walked the rest of the way to meet Ruvo Korbah

_Your triumph over the test of strength subverts the prophecies of ruin. From the ashes of Hyrule, the Hero has risen, and the Goddess awakens once again. Accept these gifts, and bring peace to Hyrule._


	10. The Lonely Mountain Peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!

One final enemy camp remained atop Mount Hylia, and they changed into varying levels of cold-protective gear. Zelda donned an old, worn, but warm doublet, while Link braided rubies and feathers into his hair as the Rito did. Then, they teleported to Keh Namut’s Shrine to save time.

They scaled Mount Hylia and looked down over their unsuspecting enemies. A strange, cloaked creature danced in the air about the camp.

“We need to get rid of that wizzrobe immediately,” Link said. “If he notices us, he’ll teleport up here with us, and we’ll be _fucked.”_

“I’ve never heard of how to defeat a wizzrobe. They were a major threat to our rural citizens, particularly when expanding into new territory.”

“The lightning ones are hard, but shoot an ice one with fire or a fire one with ice, and they go poof. Watch.”

Link nocked a fire arrow and aimed high. Zelda was in awe of the mental calculus he could perform, anticipating not only the bow’s strength and the arrow’s natural drop, but also the wind and the movement of his target—and in spite of all that, still hit his mark, dead-on.

Unnoticed by the rest of the ‘bins and the ‘fos, the wizzrobe went up in a spray of powder. “The blue and white lizals do the same thing with fire damage.” Link demonstrated effortlessly. “Huh. Took care of some keese, too. Great.”

He turned to Zelda. “You ready to obliterate some ‘bins? There’s two left.”

“Auspicious, as usual. Yes. Lead the way.”

They snuck up on the white, war-painted moblin together, just in case—but it fell to the Obliterator before it even realized they were there. The other moblin, however, had seen their attack and charged with a flaming spear.

Link parried the blow, and in its shock Zelda took the opportunity to introduce it to the Obliterator’s hard surface.

They scaled the cliff to Etsu Korima’s Shrine and entered it quickly, grateful to be out of the snow. Despite the warm gear, Zelda’s nose never failed to run in the most unseemly fashion when she was in the cold. Add a breeze, and all decorum was lost.

Fortunately, Link could not see in the dark—and this Shrine was dark as a moonless night. The only light came from blue lamps in the distance and the dim Sheikah script that adorned certain pillars and walls.

_To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Etsu Korima. In the name of the Makers, I offer this trial._

“The Zonai ruins are like this,” Link murmured. “I think Farore is afraid of the dark.”

A bell tolled, distantly, and Link chuckled.

 _Farore isn’t the only one,_ Zelda thought to herself, and she sought out Link’s hand. “If we are separated, I will never find you,” she said softly.

“Yes, you would,” he replied. But he gave her hand a squeeze nonetheless.

They set off, following the torches. They crawled under the stationary lasers and ran past a moving beam. In the next room, Link opened up a Guardian shield to illuminated rotating pillars of spikes that they had to squeeze past without touching.

Finally, they reached a corridor whose path was blocked by alternating pillars of flame.

“I think the point is to be patient,” Zelda said sarcastically. “Do they think you’re so brash?”

“I think they think you’re so brash.”

Zelda did not appreciate the dark, then, for Link could not see the murderous glare she sent his way.

They made progress by running through gaps in the flames, then came across a dangerously obscured gap.

“There must be guardians over there,” Link said. “No way I’m jumping into something I can’t see.”

He sent a bomb arrow flying into the darkness, and sure enough—three Guardians came to life in response. It was easy to take them out from afar. Then, they glided together to the end of the path and were relieved to find the monk’s staircase illuminated.

“You’ve completed four Shrines, Zelda,” Link said proudly. “You basically did everything I did when I woke up.”

“Were they quite so dangerous?”

Link thought back. “To me, then? Yes.”

_You have done well to conquer the trials laid before you. Accept these gifts, and return to Hyrule to meet the Golden Ones once again._

Link and Zelda wasted no time returning to the mouth of Etsu Korima’s Shrine. Immediately, the Goddesses began to speak. Their voices were carried to their ears on the wind atop Mount Hylia, and they rang out across the mountains.

 _You are Hyrule’s beacons of hope,_ the Goddesses said _, but your trials have only just begun. The divine weapon shall lead you… Now that you have proven your power, a new journey awaits. Go to the four locations that will be revealed to you, and reach for greater heights than ever before._

Zelda held up the Obliterator and felt a little guilty for bestowing its more crude nickname upon it, now that the Goddesses had called it _divine_. The Obliterator began to shine white like the sun, but its four prongs each glowed a different color: green, yellow, blue, and red. It was difficult to look at for long—but then, it burst apart in her hand.

Four glowing orbs of light shot up into the sky, dancing together and leaving trails of light in their path. When they reached the apex of their journey, they split apart to the four corners of Hyrule.

In the evening light, Link and Zelda could see the lights’ paths as clear as a falling star’s. They landed somewhere adjacent to each of the Divine Beasts, flared brightly into the sky, then died.

Link sighed in relief as his health was restored to him. His previous, infantile weakness truly put into context how powerful he had grown, thanks to the Goddess’ help, over the course of his journey. He did not take it for granted.

He turned to Zelda but found her staring up at the peak of Mount Hylia with a troubled look in her eyes. “Something says I need to go up there,” she murmured, and set off through the snow.

Link followed her, three paces behind. He had a feeling something mystical was about to occur, and he wanted to give her her space. Sure enough, as their procession reached the cairn at the top of the mountain, Zelda’s head snapped up at the sky and she stood, rigid, in the wake of a vision.

Zelda remembered now why the shattered fragments of aura that surrounded each Shrine monk had felt so familiar. The feeling of aura on her skin, like raindrops—it was the feeling of his tears falling onto the snow, for she was in the snow. It was the feeling of the wind against his face, for she was in the wind, whispering, though he could not hear her well.

She could sense his turmoil. His frayed nerves. He was covered in his own blood, but she felt no fear for him, no anger at his attackers. Only love and gratitude, that he was alive and that he had chosen to meet her here, of all places.

He placed a handful of amber shards to the pile below the stone monument above her grave. It had once had a face, and wings, but the wind had weathered it away over the centuries until it was naught but an oddly-shaped stone.

His voice was always so distant, though she could feel his lips move with clarity.

“—what did I call you?”

 _Zelda,_ she replied. _Always._

 

Link knew that this cairn was older than the Hero. Though his more ancient memories were distant and came to him primarily through his dreams, he _knew_ that this place was not part of his history. It was hers.

The last rays of sunlight illuminated her and shrouded her in divinity, despite the sweat and dirt and ash that had accumulated on her hands and knees. There were streaks of dirt on her face where she had wiped sweat from her brow, but it made her look more real, more _right_ , than seeing her in all her finery in the pristine walls of Hyrule Castle.

Less than a week ago, he had stood in a field of Silent Princesses and struggled to remember what it had been like to stand beside her, to touch her, to listen to her corporeal voice. He had promised himself that if they survived the Calamity, he would spend the rest of his life cherishing every touch, every smile, every laugh—even if she did not love him anymore.

And now she stood before him, her hair braided by his hands. He had slept entwined with her in bed. Given her gifts. Made her weep. Had her legs wrapped around his waist. She had looped an arm around his chest and willingly curled herself against his side, her head on his shoulder, close to his heart.

_Hyrule needs its Goddess, and she needs her Hero._

What did it mean, that she had sworn to unlock her past lives, her memories of being a goddess—for him? That she so easily reached for his hand?

Link did not want to dwell on the matter longer than necessary. He had lived many lonelier lives than this. He would not question the gifts she gave him, and he would not push her to give him more than she already had.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the glow that surrounded Zelda finally began to fade. She put a hand out to steady herself on the stone above the cairn, but Link did not move to help her right away. It was one thing to remember a forgotten life—it was another thing to process it, and he would not intrude.

Her face was creased in a frown, and he could nearly hear the gears of her brain whirring as she thought through what she had seen. Her eyes flickered to his feet, then down at her left hand, as if expecting to see something through her gloves. There was nothing there.

The princess finally turned to her knight.

“You sat here, not long ago,” she said slowly. “You were crying. I knew you suffered, but you only asked me what you called me throughout our lives.”

Link did not move. There was electricity in his veins, a tension in him that threatened to snap.

“It has _always_ been Zelda.” Her voice was a whisper. “In every life. I have always been me.”

He felt the live wire in his soul cool, and the resonance in his heart subsided. She had not remembered the moment in its entirety, but he offered her a small smile and reminded himself: he would not push her.

“I had died,” he told her. “A fairy brought me back in time, but I remembered every time I had died—” He caught himself before he finished telling her that every death had been for her. “I was given a choice, again, whether I really wanted to remember it all. ‘A thousand heroes won a thousand battles, but every one must come to death.’”

“And you _still_ chose to remember,” she said.

 _For you,_ he wanted to say. He remained silent. He had cried on the top of the mountain not just because of what he remembered, but for what he had forgotten: that in every life, every incarnation, the Hero had loved his Princess.

Zelda sat beside the cairn, in the same spot where he had sat after the Lynel killed him in the Zora Domain. “It was hard to hear you, in the wilderness,” she said apologetically. “Even now, it’s like trying to recall a long-forgotten dream.”

Link did not know what to say to relieve her of her melancholy, so he knelt in front of her in the snow and took up her hands in his. He knew what she had looked for on the back of her hands. He had seen it—the brand of the Triforce--in the Lost Woods when he faced the Hero’s despair.

But he did not think that his path to reclaiming his immortal soul was—or should be—the same as Zelda’s. He had faced the depression and hopelessness and bitterness that consumed his soul, and he had given up on ever being free of it. Instead, he had accepted that he was more than his history: he was flesh and blood and steel, and that was all he needed to protect and love his princess.

Link felt, then, on the top of Mount Hylia, that he might have been wrong to encourage Zelda to remember her previous lives. He had not been a whole person, when he woke in the Shrine of Resurrection. He had desperately needed to remember what it meant to be him, outside of everyone else's words and memories. But Zelda was a whole person; she recalled all of her suffering, her failures, her friends. What would _she_ gain from recalling more that she had lost?

He could have suffered in silence, learned to love this woman as she was, not just as she had been.

But it was too late: the Golden Ones had demanded it. He could only support her now, on what would undoubtedly be a long and painful journey to recall their long and painful shared history.

They returned to Hateno and took turns bathing. Afterward, they sat together and ate in silence. When they had finished, Link finally spoke.

“I would like to return them.” He nodded briefly at the artifacts on the wall—mementos of their fallen friends. “We’ll be going to the Divine Beasts, so we’ll be near enough to make the detour.”

Zelda’s ears drooped, though she nodded in agreement. “It would be good to say goodbye, and to meet their friends and descendants…”

Link did not tell her that Revali had no living friends, nor descendants. He did not tell her that Sidon and Doraphan and all the Zora resented Vah Ruta as Mipha’s tomb, or that the Gorons hardly remembered what a princess even was. Those would be bridges to cross when they came to them.

But he knew that she would like Riju, so he suggested they make their first stop on their quest the Gerudo Desert.

 

Zelda could not keep her mouth shut. She had never been in such a situation before. She had seen many men shirtless in her life by virtue of watching the Royal Guardsmen train in the yard below her tower, and she had even seen Link shirtless countless times on the road. She had admired the view as any young woman might. But the sight of Link in the traditional clothing worn by Gerudo vai was like…like…

There was mischief in his blue eyes as he finished packing for their journey—she could not see much else of his face, for the veil, and even his eyes were nearly hidden by his fringe of long, golden hair.

For a brief moment, Zelda considered saying fuck all to her worries and leaping on him like an animal. There could be no repercussions—save for what damage might be done to their friendship. Zelda was not yet willing to risk such a precious thing on the simple hunch that, as a member of the male population, he would be enthusiastic about a female advance…

Zelda ground her teeth together and berated herself with vicious sentiment. But it was so difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of his spine as he bent to pick up the Master Sword from where it lay on the floor beside his bed.

The bed they _shared_.

Zelda marched down the stairs ahead of Link. He had given her some of his voe armor to wear, which she enjoyed—the golden shin guards were light and ornate, and the shoes were comfortable, designed to protect against the heat of the desert sands. He had also given her one of the harnesses he had gotten from the Gerudo, and she felt _powerful_ now, dressed as she was with her very own sword strapped across her back.

He was quite exposed—vulnerable—in comparison, dressed only in silk and jewelry. He looked so delicate and waifish. But for the fact that she knew who he was and what his sword was capable of, she might have thought that even she, as novice as she was, could overcome him on the road.

“You’ll need a shield,” he said from behind her. “You can have your pick.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“I know, but I thought I’d ask.” He handed her the Guardian shield and showed her how to affix it to her back for easy access. She was so fascinated by the technology that allowed aura to appear like a halo around the central mechanism, as hard as stone but as light as air. “Are you done gawking?”

Zelda’s cheeks colored instantly, and she did not meet his eye as she took his hand.

The Slate set them down outside Gerudo Town, unnoticed by the guards at the gate. They walked inside unhindered, and no one approached them as they walked through the town. That wasn’t to say that Link wasn’t noticed. It seemed to Zelda that all the guards straightened up at the sight of him. From his stories, she couldn’t tell if his reputation in Gerudo Town was that of a traveling vai or as the legendary Hero.

Regardless, he commanded their respect even from afar.

Link traipsed up the stairs to the throne room, and Zelda followed closely lest she become separated and barred from entry.

Nothing had changed about the dim, cool oasis of the Gerudo chieftains since Zelda had last stood there with her two handmaidens—except that the chieftain who had sat upon the throne was no longer her surrogate mother, fierce and proud.

She had reveled in the farce of it all as she stood before Urbosa and entreated her to pilot Vah Naboris, Divine Beast of the Sand. Urbosa had called her “Princess of Hyrule” in such a tone that for the first time, Zelda felt like something more than an ornament—she was a ruler.

When their pomp and ceremony was through, they had rendezvoused outside the town to stroll in friendly memories. Urbosa had called her little bird, reminded her that it was what her mother had called her…and for the first time, Zelda had seen the might of the Gerudo chieftain up close.

The woman who occupied the throne was hardly more than a girl. She looked upon the visitors with appraising green eyes.

“Well, well. You’re alive. When Naboris released its wrath from Spectacle Rock, I feared I might never discover your fate.” The hammered gold circles that hung from the hem of her skirt jingled like rupees hitting stone. “Welcome, Hero of Hyrule.”


	11. Champion's Gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!

“You have much to tell me,” Chief Riju said, never taking her eyes of Zelda. “Buliara, send for the couches, and give note that I will not receive more guests today.”

Her lone guardswoman nodded her assent and strode off to do as the girl had commanded. “I have not yet had the honor of hosting distinguished guests, so I’m uncertain of the protocol. I do know that I would not have you stand about like commoners asking me to settle their quarrels.”

Zelda and Link thanked her and sat on the wicker chaise longues that the chief’s ladies brought out for them. Link seemed to relax once Buliara and the chief’s ladies were gone. “Riju, this is Zelda.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Riju. Link told me of your hospitality on his journey to free Naboris.”

“And my mother told me of your faith and courage, Princess Zelda.” Riju tilted her head, sending ringlets of her long red hair falling about her face. “And, of course, your friendship with Lady Urbosa. When Link appeared here with the legendary sword across his back, I knew it would be but a short time before you returned.”

She stood from her throne and went to the pedestal nearby. From beneath the Thunder Helm, she pulled a small brown book. “Consider this a homecoming gift. I have read it, but it should belong to you.”

Zelda accepted the book graciously and began to flip through it. Link, meanwhile, reached into his pack and brought out Daybreaker and the Scimitar of the Seven. “We treasure these mementos of our dear friend, but I cannot in good conscience keep them in my home. They belong with the Gerudo people. One day perhaps you will wield them as Urbosa did.”

It still felt strange for him to call her Riju and speak so formally, when he knew that upstairs she slept with giant plush sand seals. After facing down Naboris’ lightning with her and having seen the self-doubt beneath her cool Gerudo swagger, this felt stiff and foreign.

Makeela accepted the arms from Link. “If Buliara ever deigns to teach me,” she muttered, her words intended only for his ears, and she turned to place Urbosa’s treasures back in the chests behind her throne.

“I think I will read this later,” Zelda said softly. “Thank you, Lady Riju.”

The chief nodded knowingly. “In the meantime, then, tell me how you’ve fared since we last parted.”

Link sat cross-legged on the couch and wove the story for her, while Zelda listened avidly. It seemed to her that he was more open about his storytelling with Riju. He spoke with his hands more, and his words were less halting. When he had told _her_ of his journey he had paused often and seemed reticent to share the details.

“The Yiga are still out there,” Link said. “We hadn’t even made it to Hateno when they ambushed us on the road. Have they bothered you lately?”

“Indeed,” Riju said. “They have tried to infiltrate our walls in disguise, but my guards have learned their tells. I hear they have continued to bother traders along the route to the oasis. For what purpose, now that the Calamity has been vanquished, I do not know.”

“Their eternal purpose is to end our cycle of reincarnation,” Zelda said grimly. “They hope to kill us in a way that ensures we remain dead.”

Link’s eyes narrowed. “Is that even possible?”

She could only shrug in reply. “Even Demise himself could not break his own curse. I doubt it. But I’m not keen to find out, either way.”

“Death does not become you,” Riju said dryly. “I have seen a little of your Hero’s strength. Harm will not come to you while he is by your side, Princess Zelda.” Riju’s keen eyes pinned Link down while she spoke. “What made you two set out so quickly? One would think you’d sleep for a week after such a momentous battle.”

Link laughed a little under his breath, and Zelda smiled. “We both slept for one hundred years,” she said. “I think we’re a little tired of it.”

“And a quest,” Link said.

 _“Aha_.” Riju leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. “I had a feeling destiny would not let you rest. Tell me of it! What secrets do you seek in the desert?”

“We’re not sure yet. Haven’t gotten that far,” Link said with a shrug.

Riju grinned. “Oh, so you wanted to introduce your princess to me first, Link? I’m flattered.”

“Actually,” Zelda said, “I believe we must venture to the Gerudo Mesa to find the next clue to our quest. It would be a short journey by sand seal, and Link has told me you and your Patricia are the most agile team he has ever seen.”

“If you are inviting me along, then I say yes,” Riju said. “But _Buliara_ will undoubtedly say no.”

“I can take her,” Link said.

“Or, we can sneak,” Riju said. “But we would need to set out this instant.”

 

Riju’s slippers padded swiftly away to speak to Patricia in her pen, and while she was gone, Link turned to Zelda. “If anything happens to her, the whole force of the Gerudo will be after us.”

“Just Buliara seems to be enough of a threat,” Zelda muttered in reply.

Riju returned, and the three climbed out the wide windows set behind her throne. A marvelous blue sand seal awaited them, and it followed dutifully behind them as they fled around the side of Gerudo Town in search of two more.

“You remember how to do this?” Link asked Zelda.

Without bothering to reply, Zelda crouched low in the sand and crawled silently toward a sleeping sand seal. The sand whispered across the armor on her knees, but its sound was nothing more than the sound of sand shifting on the dunes.

As she drew close to the seal’s harness, she drew the Guardian shield and prepared for the quick maneuver Urbosa had taught her when she was a child.

“Excellent!”

Riju’s proud cry was nearly lost on the wind as Zelda’s seal surged off into the sand. Zelda’s fingers burned from the effort of holding on to the leather strap at the end of the sand seal’s lead, but once she had managed to hook it around her waist, steering the beast was much easier.

Link and Riju caught up with her, whooping in exhilaration. In the minutes that Zelda had spent sneaking up to the sand seal, Link had changed into the enchanted spauldron and headgear of the desert voe armor. The Master Sword remained on his back—ever ready.

They made their way northeast and skirted the East Barrens to reach the base of Spectacle Rock. Zelda was heartened to see that little had changed of the desert in the past one hundred years, but perhaps her expectations had been low to begin with.

They reached a narrow canyon, which Riju told them over the whip of the wind and the grunts of their seals was Champion’s Gate. They continued until they reached a hidden path set in the rock face—a crude staircase carved through the rock. They were finally forced to dismount and wave their companions off into the sands.

Riju watched Patricia go with her hands on her hips. “Buliara is going to murder me,” she proclaimed, then spun on her heel and led the way up the mountain.

As they crested the East Gerudo Mesa, the faint music of an accordion bounced toward them off the canyon walls. Link and Zelda exchanged a look.

“A friend of mine,” Link explained to Riju.

It was high noon when the monument finally came into view, and sure enough, Kass stood nearby.

His eyes lit up when he saw them approach. “Have you come for the monument, or for the view of the Divine Beast?” he asked them genially. “I came for the view, but I must say this monument is quite striking.”

Link shrugged emphatically. “Chief Riju, this is Kass.”

“It is good to meet you, Lady Riju.” Kass bowed respectfully. “In the songs my teacher left behind, there’s a verse about the trials that Champion Urbosa overcame. I would be honored if you allowed me to sing them for you.”

“Oh, yes, please do,” Riju cried.

 _“Lightning King of the Desert._  
_Naboris’s Champion, the stalwart._  
_The Hero’s power shall grow._  
_Seek the trials monuments show._  
_One, fight the brute of the sand._  
_Two, chase rings upon the land._  
_Three, throw the orb underground._  
_Champion, trials abound!”_

Riju clapped appreciatively, and the two began to speak of Champion Urbosa and the legends that surrounded her. But Link and Zelda were distracted by the voice of the Goddesses.

_We applaud you for coming here. The locations that will be revealed to you are of trials that will enhance the power you have awakened within._

_Do not let your guard down_ …

Link and Zelda ran to the monument immediately as it came to life. The Travel Gate turned blue, and the symbol of the Obliterator glowed amber on each of the three stone spires. On the flat black stone beneath the symbol, a screen flared to life with a stationary image of land from above.

Zelda could not quite make out any familiar landmarks in the images, but Link seemed to be more acquainted with a top-down view of the Gerudo Desert. “Kass’s song… They drew him here for a reason,” Link said quietly. The look he gave her was tender and a little sad. “They want you to relive the challenges each of us faced. You’ll face the molduking, Race sand seals. Best the Yiga.”

“Molduking?” Zelda repeated, aghast. “As in, king of the molduga?”

Link nodded. “Too bad we don’t have the Motherfucker anymore.” His sarcastic tone brought a smile to her face despite the overwhelming tasks before her. Racing sand seals seemed a little frivolous, but she knew how Urbosa had loved the activity. Perhaps they could start with that. Work their way up to defeating a molduga and facing the Yiga.

“What was that flash of light?” Riju asked when they left the monument’s dais and returned to their companions’ sides. “Was it your Goddesses?” Zelda nodded. “Why, you seem so crestfallen!”

“She has to face the molduking,” Link said lightly.

“A molduking is no _Calamity_ , Princess Zelda,” Riju replied. She offered her an encouraging smile. “And I happen to know that Link has defeated _several_ molduga for the people of Gerudo Town. You’re set up to succeed.”

Zelda raised her eyebrows at Link. “You never mentioned that,” she said in an accusatory tone. “Add that to the annals, Kass.”

Kass chuckled. “Is the molduking the ‘Lightning King’ of the Gerudo Desert, then? You are tasked with repeating the trials of Champion Urbosa?”

Zelda nodded. “I suppose it’s safe to tell you two this… I know that we have just met, but Link trusts you, and I am short on friends in this new world. I am trying to reclaim the full power of the Triforce in order to restore the kingdom of Hyrule to a functioning state. Link and I are bound in this endeavor, as we are in all things…but as you said, these are easy for him. I am not so gifted.”

She looked down at her hands, where no Triforce glimmered under her skin. She could recall the sensation of it coursing through her as she sealed the Calamity away in the far reaches of the universe, where no light could reach… “I fought the Calamity for one hundred years, and I banished it from Hyrule with a power that I now cannot harness. I can hardly wield a sword. So these are my tasks.” She gave Kass and Riju a watery smile. “If I can be even a _fraction_ as strong as Urbosa was, then I will be lucky.”

Link stood silently behind her, and he did not reach for her though she longed to turn into his steady, reassuring embrace. But a deep part of her knew that she did not deserve it, or his help. These were her burdens, her trials.

 _“All_ Gerudo Chieftains must perform these tasks,” Riju said. “I have not, because I am not of-age, and there is no clear successor in the event of my death. But many women have done this before you—even before Urbosa.”

Riju hesitated, then reached for Zelda’s hands and held them tightly between them. She looked up at Zelda with clear eyes that were as serious as any Zelda had ever seen. “If you overcome these trials, then you will have earned the loyalty of all Gerudo. My tribe will always be your ally, and we will back your claim to the throne.”

Zelda stared at the Gerudo chieftain in shock as her words sank in. “Lady Riju…I…” She swallowed her words of protestation. This was what she _needed_ , and she should not push it away, however unworthy she felt. “You’re too gracious.”

“You haven’t done it yet,” Riju said lightly.

 

They said goodbye to Kass and returned to Gerudo Town. Link changed back into his disguise—though Zelda thought he probably didn’t consider it a disguise so much as a fashion statement—and they followed Riju back to the throne room, where Buliara waited with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Hello Buliara!” Riju said, waving.

Buliara huffed. “Of course it was you,” she said in Link’s direction. “Thank you for returning Lady Riju. I cannot wait for you to leave.”

“I think they’ll be staying with us a little longer, actually,” Riju said. “Please have the guest chambers prepared for Link and Princess Zelda.”

Buliara could only sigh and assent to do the Chief’s bidding.

“Now, if you would like room to practice, you are free to do so in the yard with my guardswomen. I’m certain they will learn from watching you, Link.” Riju made for the stairs that led to her own bedchambers. “I will send for you when dinner is prepared. Have fun!”

“She’s totally going to watch,” Link said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Goddesses, I hope not,” Zelda replied. “I’m certain that I’ll embarrass myself in the first five minutes.”

Link led her down to the training yard where, indeed, the host of the Gerudo guard was stationed for drills. The Hero and the Princess located a dusty corner in the shade for their own practice.

“Let me see your sword?”

He accepted the blade lightly in both hands and tossed it thoughtfully in the air to test its weight. On the second toss, Link caught the saber by the hilt and swung it gracefully, but with enough force to cut the air. He ended the swing with it held up to his eye,

Zelda watched in awe as he closed his eyes and balanced lightly on the balls of his feet; he seemed nearly weightless, like he could begin to levitate at any moment. Then, faster than any mortal had the right to move, Link danced forward. His toes hardly scuffed the sandstone floor of the arena, and he stabbed and parried and slashed his invisible foe again. He could have claimed to land a thousand blows, and Zelda would have believed him. He was a blur.

He came to a stop a few feet away, a frown on his face.

“What?” Zelda asked.

“The guard isn’t original. Guards are safer to have,” he assured her, “but when you’re proficient, you might want to remove it. It’ll be hard to maneuver it as quickly with it on.”

“Do you think Impa had it done?”

Link pressed the flat of the blade to his forehead as he ruminated on the matter. “No,” he said. “One of your fathers did.”

_One of her fathers she did not recall._

Zelda sighed and reached for the sword. “Teach me how to fight a molduking.”

 

Zelda’s limbs were like jelly when they were done, and it only hurt worse as the night progressed. She could hardly lift herself off the floor when dinner was over, and she was glad to have bathed before the pain had really set in. Link had warned her to soak in hot water, and she had, but she did not know what he meant when he told her to ‘roll it out later.’

She dragged herself after the Gerudo guardswoman who was to show her to her chambers. She allowed the curtain to fall across the doorway behind her, and she took an unsteady step into the room.

She could have fallen straight to the floor, but the bed was too inviting. She toed off her boots and slipped out of her armor before falling into the soft, cool bed.

Urbosa’s journal still weighed heavily in her pocket. She had opened it when Riju first handed it to her and quickly had realized that she would cry if she read it. Now that she was in private, there was no reason to avoid it any longer.

 

_My dear friend from afar came to visit Gerudo Town today. It is always a pleasure to see the queen of Hyrule, but she described her reason for coming as urgent._

_She wished for me to meet her newborn child. Her sweet daughter's name is Zelda, and she has her mother's smile. I cannot help but cherish her already._

_I told her that Zelda is sure to grow up into a dignified and beautiful queen, just like her mother. My friend thanked me, but said that looks are fleeting, and instead she wishes for Zelda to be blessed with true happiness. The way she gazes upon her daughter... her little bird, as she calls her... I have never seen such unconditional love._

 

_It has been a long while since we laid my dear friend, the queen, to rest. I only now have the will to write again. It was so sudden. I still can't believe she is gone. All of my sweet memories of her keep running through my mind. Even now, I can hardly keep the tears at bay._

_Young Zelda kept her head held high as she said her final good-bye to her mother at the funeral. She carried herself as a true princess, but I can sense the deep grief she is hiding within. I worry for her..._

 

_I made a voyage to visit Hyrule. After speaking with the king, I saw Zelda for the first time in a year. In truth, it was my concern for her that brought me there._

_The king allowed me to keep her company as she went to the spring for her training. There, Zelda prayed and prayed in the icy waters until the sun set. I told her many times to stop, but she wouldn't listen._

_I eventually had to drag her out of the water. Zelda could only stare at me for the longest time with heartbreaking vulnerability. Eventually, in a tiny voice, she told me of the pressure and panic she feels at not being able to fulfill her sacred duty._

_She whispered over and over, "What is wrong with me?" All I could do was hold her close and listen... I pray that it is enough._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda's sword is a modified shaska, like Hadhafang but with a crossguard.


	12. Rings Upon the Land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 1200+ hits on a 12 chapter story. Please let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> R&R!

_Emissaries from Hyrule came to see me today. They informed me that I have been chosen to pilot the Divine Beast. My people are uneasy about it. They tell me such a dangerous task is not fitting for the chief. I understand their fear._

_However, I intend to accept this task. Calamity Ganon's resurrection does not only threaten Hyrule, but the whole world. I refuse to sit idly by. Ganon is also closely associated with the Gerudo...an association I deeply resent._

_I believe Zelda will be here soon to receive my official answer. I am excited to see her, as always._

 

_Link asked to meet with me today, and by ‘asked,’ I mean that he dropped unannounced into my private chambers dressed as a Gerudo woman. I nearly killed him before I realized who it was._

_Zelda had exploded on him in Tabantha and ordered him not to follow her—so he had followed her, from Rito Village to Gerudo Town, in secret. He lost her in the turmoil and festivities of our welcome._

_I promised to let him know if I saw her, and he reluctantly returned to whatever roof he has chosen to sleep on…_

_In a similar yet distinct way, Link seems to have trouble expressing himself. He was not like this when he was young and would follow the royal caravans with his parents. He had been a mischievous boy with a nose for treasure, trouble, and enchanted places, and his eyes danced with laughter at all times._

_I asked him, before he left me, when exactly he had found the Sword that Seals the Darkness. As I suspected, it was years before the king ordered him to find it—and it was around the same time the laughter left his eyes…_

_Perhaps those two can help each other._

_That is, if she ever gives him the chance._

 

_Today Zelda visited a dig site with several academics, but no guards. The cursed Yiga ambushed them, and she was forced to flee. Link found her just in time, and he refused to leave her side unless I promised to escort her personally for the remainder of her stay in Gerudo Town._

_I took her to Naboris to lighten her spirits, but she was too frazzled to continue her research. She could only speak about Link. The poor girl simply could not understand why Link would work so hard to save her. “I have given him every reason to hate me: I have been cruel to him, condescended to him, and most of all I have failed him as his Goddess and his princess…” I could say nothing to console her or convince her._

_When the sun set, the poor, exhausted girl drifted to sleep. I sent word to Link, who showed up at Naboris faster than I expected. Although it is none of my business, I felt the least I could do to bridge their gap was to share some things about Zelda. The rest is up to them._

 

_I am so happy to say that Zelda smiles much more often lately. It seems she and Link have finally learned to get along. I hope this will have a positive effect on her training. However...I am concerned we may be running out of time. Whenever I hear of monster attacks or other unusual events plaguing the kingdom, my concern grows. All I can do is pray that Zelda... my little bird...has enough time._

_I do not pray to the goddesses, but to her mother. My dearest friend... How I miss her._

 

Zelda could read the last entry, for her eyes swam with too many tears. She wished so desperately for her friend, her surrogate mother, to be there with her—but it could never be. She had died for Zelda, _because_ of Zelda. Her penance for her lack of faith would be to live the rest of her life without Urbosa.

She set the book aside and buried her face in a pillow to disguise her sobs.

 

Link climbed to the roof rather than try to sleep alone amid such grand trappings. He could not have slept even if he tried; his thoughts raced too much for it. He had not known what to say to Zelda after her melancholy words on the Gerudo Mesa. He still did not know what to say, for it was clear that she still blamed all of their deaths on her own inability to harness her power. Even though she had, at last, sealed Ganon away—it was not enough. This journey opened the old wounds and pointed out her shortcomings, and she was always one to dwell on them.

He stared up at he moon and wished he knew how to impart some of his hard-won inner peace to her.

Under the hum and distant clatter of Gerudo Town’s nightlife, Link heard a muffled sob. His heart sank to the center of the earth at the sound. For a moment, he debated whether or not he should intrude through her window, but in the end he decided to risk it. If she were unhappy with his presence, he would leave.

Zelda did no notice him enter. She had her fists in her hair, and her whole body was wracked with terrible sobs. He approached silently, but his weight on the edge of the bed alerted her to his presence. She looked up at him with eyes greener than any jewel he’d seen in all of his lives, and his heart broke when the sight of him only made her fall further apart. She bowed her head over her knees to hide her face from him, and her tears came harder.

He exhaled slowly and took another risk.

He put one arm around her back and hooked the other under her knees, and he pulled her into his lap. Once there, he looped both arms around her and squeezed, his head buried in her shoulder. He had learned how to extend his spirit along the length of the Master Sword to kill a multitude of enemies at once, and to shoot beams of holy light from its blade. Now, he wished he could extend his spirit all around her and convey that she was safe, she was alive, and she was wanted.

Link could feel her pain as though it was his own, and his own tears dripped, unbidden, onto her pale, freckled shoulder.

It seemed to take a century for Zelda to begin to unwind, but when she finally did, it was all at once. Her muscles were putty in his arms, and for a split second he wondered if she had lost consciousness.

She lifted her heavy arms and wrapped them around his neck. “’mss...” she mumbled in his ear.

Link pulled away from her shoulder to look at her. She had cried herself hoarse, and her eyes were nearly swollen shut from tears. He pressed his cheek back to hers regardless.

“I should apologize,” he said in reply. “I forgot to tell you something really important. Urbosa is going to kill me.”

Zelda shifted in his lap so that her legs hung over the side of the bed like dead weights. Her feet had fallen asleep, curled up so tightly in a fetal position. “Hmm?” she inquired wearily.

“This is an exact quote, okay? You believe me?”

“You’ve walked with spirits and slain a demon…communed with primordial gods…come back from the dead…” Her sleepy voice trailed off into a whisper. “I believe you.”

So Link finally kept his promise to Urbosa, and he told her: “‘Both you and the princess… I know you have suffered much regarding what happened to us Champions. But this is how things had to happen. No one need carry the blame. So please, make it clear so she understands that. Tell her to shed any worries. And let her know…I couldn’t be more proud of her.’”

Zelda sighed in his ear. Her cold, wet lips brushed against the corner of his jaw with the motion, and he shivered. “I miss her so much,” she said. “I miss _you_ so much.”

He understood her, intimately, but the impact of her words still hit him like a knife to the heart. He could say nothing adequate in reply, so he said nothing at all.

Finally, Zelda stirred, and she slipped out of his arms and pulled him into bed with her. “I hope you don’t mind,” she whispered.

Link wrapped her back into a tight embrace and pressed his lips to her forehead in lieu of a reply.

They lay like that for a very long time. Link thought that Zelda fell asleep, but tears slipped out from under her lashes every so often. He brushed them all away with gentle fingers.

“I know no one wants to blame me for anything,” she said eventually. “ _You_ have been so kind to forgive me for my many shortcomings… And I am trying to be kind to myself, too. But I _have_ to unburden myself, Link. I _have_ to apologize.”

In her eyes, he saw a sadness beyond the one hundred years of this lifetime. “I was so terrible to you, for so long. I denied all the things that brought us together. I could have alleviated some of your suffering, been a better friend, sooner. And of course, everything that has happened to you—even before you met _me_ —was _because_ of me. You’re a beautiful man, Link. If not for me…you could have been…”

“A nameless soldier,” he suggested. “A goat boy. Perhaps a horse trainer.” Her lips twitched in a small smile. “Zelda, I have been all of those things.” Before she could continue, he finished: “But I accept your apology. You were a _huge_ brat.” She laughed at that, then fell silent. He brushed her hair away from her face and let loose a heavy breath. “How are your arms?”

“Oh, it’s so much worse than you said,” she groaned and rolled on to her back. “I cannot stand, let alone defeat a molduga!”

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and gestured for her to give her an arm. She did so, watching curiously, and he began to knead the tense lines of her forearm, the cup of her palm and the webs of her fingers.

“You’re terrible,” she muttered, but her face was blissful.

“The worst is yet to come,” he assured her, and continued to massage her aching muscles until she fell asleep.

 

After a week in Gerudo Town, Zelda began to wonder if she were overstaying her welcome—but Riju seemed to enjoy their company so much more than her guardswomen that Zelda would have felt guilty for leaving. Link likewise assured her that Riju was watching every one of Zelda’s lessons and practicing on her own in secret, so really, hanging out in Gerudo Town was doing _her_ a favor.

Link had purchased another set of Gerudo vai clothing, this time in deep crimson so it wouldn’t show the dirt as much. They had begun to spar, and it turned out that Zelda was a quick study. She had yet to best him—far from it—but from his vague memories of being a captain of the Royal Guard, he knew he should be impressed by her rapid progress. He told her so, though not frequently enough for her to be satisfied.

In the second week, Link was beginning to think that his princess might one day match his own skill in battle. She had fantastic muscle memory and could commit a complicated sequence of steps to memory after seeing it only once. However, she had a major problem with follow-through. She could block his blows with talent, but when it came time to jump on the openings she created, her blows slowed with uncertainty. It frustrated him to no end, and he was beginning to think that simple encouragement was not going to be enough.

After he had put her through a particularly exhausting workout, he suggested they take a break for lunch and brought her up to the rooftop. They sat together with their feet in the canal, and slices of hydromelon and durian in a basket nearby. The sun was at such an angle that the large rock above Riju’s abode blocked the worst of it from them, and in the shade they could enjoy the breeze. Zelda was happy to chatter away now that she had caught her breath. “Riju asked if we would like to formally participate in the solstice festival tomorrow evening,” she said. “I took the liberty to decline. I don’t personally feel ready to announce my return to all of Gerudo Town when there remain so many more divine challenges to face.”

Link breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank the Three. I hate ceremony.”

Zelda snickered a little. “I had a feeling you would agree. But I think I would like to join the celebrations in town. Riju told me that I should enjoy a Noble Pursuit—they will be at a discount—”

“Good luck with that,” Link interjected. “Furosa wouldn’t sell me one. She thought I was a child.”

He enjoyed the way Zelda’s pealing laughter rang out across the rooftops. He thought that, if he were to list his skills, the greatest of them would be to make Zelda laugh like this…even at his own expense. When Zelda had wiped the tears from her eyes, he said something else that he knew would make her smile. “How about we go find the ‘rings upon the land’ tonight? It’ll be a nice break from sparring, and we’ll have something of our own to celebrate tomorrow.”

Her face lit up with excitement. “I would love to,” she agreed. “If I can’t beat you with the sword, then I will beat you with the seal!”

“Does your Sealing Power give you an advantage, I wonder?”

She was laughing when she pushed him off the roof.

 

They bid adieu to Riju that evening, for she had some things to plan for the next day’s festivities, but she promised to watch them with her spyglass from the roof—at least for a little bit. Zelda was a little saddened not to have the young Gerudo accompanying them. Riju was endlessly supportive in her matter-of-fact, devil-may-care kind of way, and Zelda appreciated her blunt confidence.

Link suggested that they set out on foot and pick up loose sand seals after they knew what they were looking for. Zelda suspected that he preferred the hearty breed that roamed the Gerudo Desert partly for their speed—they were less spoiled than the ones for rent in Gerudo Town—but also for the fact that he didn’t have to pay a pretty rupee for their services.

Link had also insisted they both wear armor, despite the easy task before them. He had helped her braid his ruby Rito headdress into her hair to keep her warm in the cold desert night, but everything else she wore was armor: voe leg guards and boots over her trousers, his borrowed Champion tunic over mail.

They headed west from the town and walked briskly toward a marker Link had set on the Slate. Not long after Gerudo Town had faded from their sight, Link pointed out a twinkling light in the distance before them. It was blue, like aura.

“And I spy seals.” Zelda led Link to the sleepy herd, and they quickly caught hold of two unsuspecting rides. “Follow me, I guess!” Zelda called to Link, and she directed her sand seal toward the aura up ahead.

The ring was half buried n the sand, yet it was not corporeal. It was a swirling vortex of light lined with large bits of ancient Sheikah text—but Zelda had no time to read it. The moment her sandseal passed through the arch of the ring, it collapsed inward into a ball of light that shot ahead of her, leading the way to a new ring yards and yards away.

It was not such a challenge after all, though there were lizalfos hidden below ground in this part of the desert. It was easy enough to avoid them, as long as she never let her seal slow. Link likewise ignored them, as he raced to keep up with her.

They followed the ridge of a dune and down again into a graveyard of leviathan bones. She hurtled through an ancient rib cage and out of a fragmented skull, and she was so preoccupied with theories about the leviathan’s placement—in the desert!—that she almost did not see the final ring. It was different than the others, more ornate. Like a gateway—and this one was surrounded by glowing orbs that counted down the seconds as Zelda approached.

Link’s shouts brought her back to the task at hand; he was encouraging his seal, urging it to catch up. Soon, he was neck-and-neck with her, but she would not let him beat her at this!

The gateway closed behind her before he could cross through, and she released her sand seal immediately. She had enough momentum that her shield remained in motion even after the seal was free. “I did it!” she cried as the shield finally came to a stop.

“Zelda, watch out!”

The ground shook so violently that she nearly lost her footing, which happened to be rather fortunate. An arrow whistled through the air where her head had been a moment before.

Link took out the archer first, but a Yiga assassin armed with a wicked sickle was running across the sand toward Zelda at full-speed.

Zelda had only a moment to draw her sword, but that moment was enough. She blocked the first swipe of the sickle, then extricated herself from the tangle on fleet feet to reestablish a safe distance across the sand from her opponent. Before the Yiga could even get up off their hands and knees, Zelda whipped forward and struck.

The Yiga caught her blade with their own, but her agile saber slipped through the arc of the sickle until it was caught on her crossguard; the end of her blade sliced through the Yiga’s shoulder like butter.

Her muscles moved of their own accord to complete the dance she had begun. She brought her sword back in a motion that left it at her shoulder, which yanked the sickle from the assassin’s hand and sent it flying across the dunes behind her. Then she unwound from the hip, and as her arm uncoiled she brought the hilt of her blade down on the side of the Yiga’s head with the full weight of her body behind it.

The assassin dropped like a sandbag.

Frightened tears were already beginning to blur her vision as her brain caught up to the situation at hand, but Zelda did her best to remain rational. She jumped over the assassin’s body and ran for the newly revealed Shrine. Link would follow, and at least she would have something at her back to protect her—

Link skidded to a halt in the sand in front of her before she reached the Travel Gate of the Shrine. His arms caught her mid-run, and he staggered back at the impact but did not let go.

“Are you okay?” he demanded. She nodded quickly. “You’re shaking so much, Zelda.”

She couldn’t help it. Her heart raced as though she had just run a marathon, and she felt limp and out of control of her own muscles, like a puppet with severed strings. It was all she could do to stand and cling to Link now, a rock steady in the turmoil.

“I didn’t kill him, did I?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and bust out another chapter tonight before my little vacation is over, but then I'll have to go back to thinking about science until the next holiday--so it might be a few weeks. Leave me a comment in the meantime!


	13. The Festival of the Solstice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!

“You did perfectly. You disarmed and disabled your attacker like a pro.” Link reached behind him with one hand to activate the Shrine, then pulled Zelda into the safety of the archway. “It looked like you knocked the snot out of that one.”

Zelda shuddered. “I think I severed one of their tendons,” she said unsteadily. “They may never have use of that arm again.”

“That’s better than taking away the use of their _head_ ,” Link pointed out. “That’s one less assassin to kill you in the night.”

They sank into the Shrine, and the prone bodies of the Yiga disappeared from view. “That was really, really, good, Zelda. Can you try to hit _me_ that hard next time we spar?”

Zelda pushed him away when their ride came to a stop and Takama Shiri welcomed them to his trial. “No, I’m not sure I ever want to hit _anyone_ that hard again.”

“Only when necessary,” Link reminded her softly, but he did not push her further. He would not take away her enjoyment of what he thought was going to be a very interesting trial.

She handed him her bloodied sword to clean, and he passed her the Slate in return. She used it to move several large steel blocks around with Magnesis to form a path for them to cross to the next gate, then moved them back to activate the electric power grid and open the gate. In the next room, she broke the circuit and allowed them to move through the room without getting electrocuted. She solved all of the puzzles in what Link thought was record time. They scaled the metal ladder blocks to meet Takama Shiri and accept their gifts.

Green electricity crackled around Link as Takama Shiri pushed the emblem into his soul.

_In the names of the Three, I bestow upon you, Hero, this gift… Naboris’s Emblem. Collect three emblems to open the path to a new challenge. Two remain…_

Zelda felt her own gift enter her then, but before the monk could draw away, she pleaded with him: _Please, what is this? What am I meant to do?_

The monk began to disintegrate into the aura, but a spectral wind blew the particles into Zelda’s face. She blinked it out of her eyes, but when her vision cleared, she found that she stood in the Temple of Time once more. It was but for a moment: wind whispered through the ruins and stirred her hair. She heard a voice behind her.

Then, the vision passed, and Zelda stood in the empty Shrine with Link once more.

“Nothing useful?” Link guessed when he saw her expression. She shook her head in reply and took hold of the Slate to bring them back to the surface, but she remembered the unconscious Yiga who might still be lying in the sand outside the Shrine. She elected to bring them back to Gerudo Town instead.

 

Zelda sat in bed awake for hours, mulling over what she might be required to do at the Temple of Time. She spoke aloud of her theories, and Link listened closely as she told him the legends of his own life and the role the Temple had played in it.

The Triforce had been hidden there, but they knew that she possessed it now. The Master Sword had also been hidden there, but its resting place had been moved to the Lost Woods and the Sword lay at their bedside. Other relics had been kept in the Temple over the ages, but she could not imagine what role any of them might play in their quest.

“I cannot imagine what they are giving me, either. It makes sense for you to gain strength and stamina, to prepare you to defeat the demon. But what must I need?”

“Sleep,” Link suggested.

She ignored him. “My faith was weak, both in myself and in you and in the Golden Ones. I was angry at my creators and at destiny. I am trying to forgive myself for it all, but besides my guilt, what of that remains? I know what I am capable of. I’m annoyed at destiny, frankly, but I don’t curse it like I did. And regardless, what tokens could they give me and how would I redeem them for something so intangible?”

Link rolled onto his side to regard her with raised eyebrows. “Zelda,” he said in a voice that completely silenced her. _“Was worrying what vanquished the demon?”_

She scowled at him.

“You will never be omniscient,” Link continued. “At least, I don’t think you will. So you’ll have to get used to not knowing how everything is going to work out.”

“How are you _so_ calm?” Zelda said, and with a frustrated sigh she lay down to sleep at last.

“Because I am used to being a weapon in Divine hands,” he replied. “Usually yours.”

 

The festival of the solstice was something Zelda had heard about but never witnessed for herself. Her father had expressly forbidden her from attending, and she soon realized why. The solstice marked the day the sun was at its highest, and its light remained on earth the longest; it was also a day to celebrate the full sensuality of the Gerudo.

Zelda was a little mortified when she realized exactly what that entailed. Some things, like the steep discounts on spa treatments and beauty items like clay masks and kohl, she could appreciate at face value. There were free courtship classes, which Link said were worth attending expressly for the hilarity. But then there were love lessons, which Riju told her about with utmost nonchalance.

“A vai must learn to make love to herself, before she can hope to make love to a voe,” the young chief explained as they surveyed the revelry. “Voe will tell you all about how to give them pleasure, and foreign vai never learn how to demand their own in turn. We teach our girls that it is their right to be satisfied and how to achieve it.”

Zelda’s face was bright red. “That is a wonderful sentiment,” she said diplomatically, and she was very glad that Link was somewhere down in the crowd. She felt that it was her duty as Princess of Hyrule to know the traditions and ceremonies of the sovereign Gerudo who had so often been her allies, so she listened to Riju as she explained the other festivities that surrounded the solstice—though she felt uncomfortably warm around the collar doing so.

“Buliara is concerned at the impropriety of leaving a voe free to participate in the festival, in disguise, considering that this is the day we usually struggle the most to keep foreign men out of our town. _I_ know that Link is honorable, but I had to tell Buliara that the two of you were promised to one another to get her to calm down about his presence in the festival.” Riju’s eyes sparkled with mischief like liquid jade. “I hope that does not offend you, but considering he has not slept in his prepared rooms in the two weeks you have stayed with us, I figured it would hold water.”

Zelda could have melted into a puddle of mortification. “Lady Riju, I hope to have you always as an ally and never as an enemy. I wouldn’t stand a chance against your cunning.”

“Or my ribbing,” Riju said more plainly, and the girls laughed together in the afternoon sun.

After lunching with the chief, Zelda ventured out into the festivities on her own. She wished fellow revelers “sav’saaba” and “vasaaq” as she passed, and they responded in kind. She knew that the Gerudo guards mingled throughout the crowd, and with her own sword strapped across her back, she felt quite safe from any would-be assassin who might have infiltrated the festival.

Hours passed, and she did not come across Link. She gathered with other revelers to hear Riju’s speech about the beauty of the sun and the beauty of the Gerudo, the fire of passion that burned in each and every one of them, and so on. In the commotion that followed Riju’s speech, Zelda found herself standing in the queue for a free Noble Pursuit, and when she reached the front of the line she found that everyone at the bar was too overwhelmed to question her age.

She laughed as she walked away with the icy drink.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She whirled around, nearly dropping her glass, when she heard Link speak from behind her. He, too, had a glass of Noble Pursuit in hand, and she could see his wide smile at her surprise—he had found a new veil, this time made out of a more translucent material than his others. It did nothing to alter his feminine appearance.

“As a matter of fact, I _am_ ,” Zelda replied warmly. “I have always admired the pride of the Gerudo women. I hope it rubs off.”

“It does,” Link replied. He clinked his glass against hers, and they each sipped at their drinks. It was as delicious as the first drink of water after crossing the desert.

“What have you been up to?” she asked.

“Doing some favors. I brought Furosa some ice and she _finally_ gave me a drink.” He took another sip. “You?”

“I sat through one of those courtship classes you mentioned. For all of Riju’s talk of Gerudo women’s dignity, I could _not_ believe some of the questions—!”

“Right?” They laughed to themselves and found a seat on a rug in the shade just a little ways away from the bar. “They’re so knowledgeable about sex, you’d think that would go for romance, too.”

Zelda raised her eyebrows. “And how do you know of their sexual prowess?”

It was a sight to see: Link’s sun-kissed skin turned redder than a voltfruit. Zelda was quite glad that he had found this new veil.

“That’s not what I said, Zelda, and you know it.”

She guffawed.

They refilled their drinks any time they saw that the line was short, and by the time the sun had set, they were both quite drunk. Their thoughts and movements and words were as viscous as courser-bee honey poured from a jar.

Zelda leaned heavily on Link’s shoulder as they wandered Gerudo Town. He was warm and firm, and the feeling of his taught bicep under her hand was too satisfying to let go—and she couldn’t let him wander off again, now, could she?

A vendor hawked at them to buy a flower crown to celebrate the sacred goddess inside every woman. “Don’t you dare,” Zelda muttered, but Link purchased one anyway and forced it upon her head for the irony.

As the night drew on, the liquor began to hit them with true force; Zelda’s yawns were becoming insatiable, while Link’s fingers itched for his bow. They snuck in to the training yard—blessedly deserted for the night—and Zelda curled up with some cushions to nap while Link got in some target practice.

Even with several Noble Pursuits slowing him down, he was as much of a dead-shot as ever.

She didn’t tell him, but the one story she had heard about his drinking had had a similar end: several of his fellow captains had challenged him to an inebriated bout of target practice, and he had sorely trounced them no matter how many drinks they fed him. Someone had told her that his aim only got _better_.

“What was it you said to me, when I told you that your parrying worried me? ‘Time’?”

Link looked over his shoulder at her, startled by her voice after such a long silence. He tilted his head, confused by her question.

“In the Shrine, you parried a Guardian laser… You said the word, ‘time.’ I want a better answer.”

“Hero of Time,” he said, walking toward the stairs that lay across the arena from them.

“Wait! I still don’t know what you mean.”

“Watch,” he called over his shoulder. He climbed the stairs in a few bounding steps, and then, with a little help from Revali’s blessing, he leaped high into the sky. For a stunning moment, Link hung suspended as though untouched by gravity. Then, as Zelda watched, he drew his bow from his back and nocked an arrow with lightning speed.

He moved effortlessly and gracefully and with wicked intent, and before Zelda could blink, he had put an arrow into every single target in the training yard.

All twelve of them.

Link landed delicately on his feet, his bow already stowed on his back. He was hardly winded. “I think I had it _before_ ,” he said as he approached her once more. “But I had to work on it, this time around.”

Link sat heavily beside her. Even in his drunken state, he could tell that there was more to her original question than she had asked. “It took a long time, actually. Weeks of failure. Lots of practice in the Shrines. I had to focus on that which was around me, and myself, and separate them so perfectly that I moved outside of time.”

Zelda nodded slowly. “So you have your own blessing,” she said in a low voice, “just like the other Champions.”

“No. Theirs was unique to them…but this has been something every Hero has had.” He gave her a small smile. “Hero of Time for a reason.”

“I did not know the reason.”

“Neither did I.” Link shrugged. “The Hero just kept pushing me—”

Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, and Link knew he had put his foot in something he had not wanted to bring up with her quite so soon. His jaw snapped shut mid-sentence, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her keen stare.

“I meant to ask you about _who_ , exactly, gave you the choice to remember your memories or not,” she said, “and at what point you went from being an amnesiac to being this—being fully in-tune with your identity. Your real identity.”

Link swallowed hard; his throat was dry as the dunes around them. His brilliant princess was a master debater and a greater mind than he, even when intoxicated, but it didn’t matter. She needed only a twist of her mouth to draw the truth from him.

 _“I_ did,” he said at last, unable to find a way around it. “I was keeping it from _myself_. I told you, when I woke up and everyone started telling me that I was this legendary knight destined to save some legendary princess…I didn’t want that fate. I had other reasons to want to save you and all of Hyrule, and none of them included, ‘because fate says so.’ Eventually I found other reasons to want to remember who I was—and who I always have been.”

Those reasons included discovering a love for his Goddess and her incarnations that could sustain him until the end of the universe. “But there was something blocking me, always. The Hero felt like another person who stood at a distance from me…some super powerful being that I had to unlock. I could hear his voice, _my own voice,_ telling me to be better. Tossing my own doubts back at me. In the end, I realized—I had to accept that there is nothing special or divine about me that makes me the Hero except for the fact that I have chosen to follow you throughout the ages.”

There was some deeper revelation that she could have picked up on, but in her current state, she could only see—she only _cared_ about—one thing.

She leaned toward him and pressed her lips, lightly, to his through his veil.

Link froze against her, a very careful, very warm statue and bundle of nerves. The flowers in her hair tickled, and he had half a mind to push her off of him so that he could wipe the back of his hand across his face to stifle the sneeze that would undoubtedly follow. But his princess had kissed him, and now she sat staring at him with such a deadly serious look in her eyes that—

“Now I know why you tell _me_ to slow my brain down,” she said. A very small smile appeared on her lips. Lips that had, just a moment before, been pressed to his.

“It’s a lot to process,” he said apologetically.

Her piercing gaze dropped for a moment to her hands. “I just want you to know that there are a million things that make you special, that make you the Hero,” she said. “But it was easier to—”

He reached for her hand to quiet her.

He didn’t know his inner peace had gone. His heart was racing faster than it ever had in the face of a Guardian Stalker or the Calamity. He felt hot and cold all at once, and something in his chest was fit to burst. Link had several reasons off the top of his head for why he should begin to cry, immediately.

Despite the uncanny ability he had to focus on archery targets and attackers even when inebriated, he could not pin his thoughts down now.

So, to buy himself time, he said, “I think we should go somewhere Buliara won’t murder me.”

She grinned at him in return, despite her nerves, and stood to lead him back to their shared chamber. She kicked off her shoes and unslung her sword, but when she turned to meet him again, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in one hand, and his head in the other.

Zelda hurried to sit beside him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m _great_ ,” he said through his fingers.

“Then why are things not going the way I imagined them?”

He blinked up at her owlishly as he processed the implications of her words. Then he pushed the water into her hands. They were both going to drink about eight gallons of water before he, at least, dared to speak his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	14. The Brute of Sand.

The last drunkards had either passed out or been thrown in the jail for the night, for Gerudo Town was silent outside their window. The silence outside made the silence in the room all the more poignant. Finally, Zelda seemed to give up and changed into one of her new dressing gowns, braided her hair for bed, and lay down. After a while Link thought she had even fallen asleep—but he would never be so lucky. He had been cleaning Fi for over an hour when Zelda finally spoke.

“Have you decided whether you’re sober enough to speak to me, yet?” Her voice was extraordinarily sleepy, but when he looked over at her from his perch at the window, her eyes were alert. As always, they had the power to make his heart race. “Because I certainly am, for better or worse.”

 _For better or worse indeed,_ Link thought. Things were easier when she had never expected him to speak.

He set aside his sword. “I don’t want to put more pressure on you than there is already,” he said.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Pressure to what?”

Link was quiet for a moment as he weighed his words. He would have to trust that Zelda was a whole person—someone who had an existence outside of what he remembered in bits and pieces. She had loved him. It was written about _in song,_ and even the Deku Tree had told him so. She deserved to hear his thoughts, why he was holding her at a distance now, and he had no reason to think that she couldn’t handle the truth.

“For you to be the Goddess I knew,” he said quietly.

Link’s words hung heavily in the air, but he would not add to them though he knew she wanted him to continue. He could not. He could not tell her with any words in his vocabulary how he longed to hear her call him _Dear One_ once again, or how his entire being missed her soul-encompassing embrace and her assurance that she would never let him break again. He loved the girl who lay in bed before him, too. It was so easy to open himself to her, to laugh with her. She was every ounce the goofy intellectual, the brave, headstrong girl he loved before, and the confidence she had come to gain only made her more beautiful. He could braid her hair and undo it, take her hand when he needed strength or had strength to give, and now, he knew, he could kiss her when he wanted to. That was why he felt so terrible: it would be unfair to want more.

His eyes stung as he struggled to communicate even a fraction of that. “I spent every moment since I woke in the Shrine of Resurrection thinking about her. Talking to her.”

“Falling back in love with her,” she said. Her voice was carefully calm, and she kept her face schooled in a mask of open entreaty.

Link exhaled slowly. 

“I have loved you in every life, Princess,” he said; his voice shook “That is a fact. But from the moment I woke in the Shrine of Resurrection, to the time that I stood with you on Hyrule Field, I knew nothing but the voice on the wind. It was _always you_ , I know. But _you’re_ different—and I know that you feel the same about me, don’t you?” He smiled somberly. “A century ago, you loved me enough to vanquish an army of Guardians and march into the demon’s trap alone. But I’m still not the Link you knew, then.”

“No, in many ways you are not.” Zelda had sat up while he spoke, and now she stood and came to stand before him, eye to eye. “But you are _my Link_ regardless, and I would face the Calamity for you—just you—here and now if I had to. I would go to the ends of the earth or count every grain of sand in the desert just to remember the lives I’ve shared with you. That is not a burden. The punishment the Goddesses have laid out for me… _that_ is. But doing something that would make you happy?” She returned his sad smile. “I _want_ you to be happy.”

He could not formulate a reply, so he raised his hands to cup her face and pressed their foreheads together and tried to convey his gratitude and the complicated, swirling depths of his emotion.

Zelda wrapped her fingers around one of his wrists “I think we are of one mind, then.” Her voice was a whisper, and her breath was hot on his cheeks. He nodded in reply. “Then let’s go to sleep.”

Link did not let her go immediately. Instead, he tipped his head forward to kiss her gently. She was warm and she was real and she kissed him back with the same earnest tenderness that was reflected in his heart.

She smelled like warm saffinya and magic.

“I _am_ happy,” he assured her.

 

Link had found his Sword. His hands were wrapped tight around the hilt, and the awareness of all the world was on him—as was the attention of its creators. She could feel the Three stir, and their presence filled the Forest as her Hero’s worth was tested.

They knew he wasn’t ready. Even the Sword, stirring from its long slumber, did not recognize him yet.

 _Link_ , she called, _Link_ …

His fractured mind raced with alternating panic and recognition as, for a blessed moment, his soul recognized the Sword in his hands and the voice in his head. She could feel his heart run wild, and she knew the Sword had finally awakened. It remembered the last time he had held it—and so did he.

 _Link!_ she cried, to bring him out of the pain of his remembered death, to bring him out of the doubt of his failure, to remind him: _The fate of Hyrule rests with you!_

The Calamity ensnared her once more. **THE BOY HAS FAILED,** it told her gleefully. **HE IS UNWORTHY! WHERE IS YOUR HOPE NOW?**

She pushed out the tendrils of Despair it tried to slip into her heart. _What do you know of hope?_ she replied with burning heat. _You have never possessed it._

The Calamity raged, but her faith had never been stronger.

He was calling to her again.

“Am I strong enough?” he asked. “What does that even mean?”

She wanted to flood him, shower him with her love. His doubt only increased her faith in his worthiness, but it rended her heart to know that it was ultimately her own failure that caused it.

She would not let him fall again.

 

Link woke in the morning just as he had every morning since their arrival in Hateno: with the girl he loved asleep in his arms. There had been a change, however. Her hand that rested on the pillow between them shimmered with the divine light of the Triforce.

He did not dare to move and wake her from whatever vision or dream she was lost in. Her brow was creased with what looked like determination, and as he looked on, her fist clenched. The Triforce on the back of it pulsed once—then winked out.

Zelda’s eyes flew open.

“Good morning,” he said.

She pushed herself up to stare at him. Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she could speak. “I dreamed about you coming to the Sword.”

He blinked at her. “Huh.”

“It didn’t recognize you at first, because you were doubtful of yourself, just like you said.” She raised a hand to her forehead as she tried to recall the finer details of her dream. “I…” Her heart was filled to bursting. She could recall that feeling so clearly and so strongly that it startled her she had ever forgotten it.

Link propped himself up on his elbow to find her gaze. “I heard your voice,” he said. “You gave me strength.”

“You always had it, Link. It was my fault you ever doubted it. Everything you went through was to fix something I had broken—”

“I’ve wanted to say this for a while, but it felt wrong to talk back to you when you were single-handedly battling a demon.” His words were light, but the set of his jaw was as serious as anything Zelda had ever seen from him. “I broke _myself_ , Zelda. You did not _let_ me break— _I_ made the decisions that led to my fall. And you made sure it would never happen again.”

“I won’t let it.”

He smiled brilliantly. “I know.”

 

They set out to find the molduking after breakfast. “It’ll be in the East Barrens,” Link said as they changed into armor outside the town’s walls. She wore the same armor she had to find the _rings upon land,_ but she thought it was telling that he had donned something a little more sturdy than what he had worn on their last outing.

She gasped when she saw him slip on the ornate red and blue tunic of the Royal Guard over his underlying plate armor. “You look just like your father, Link.”

His movements slowed a little. “I remembered talking about him a little with you once,” he said, “but nothing else.”

Zelda was more than happy to offer up the surplus of memories she had of his father. “He was a wonderful, wonderful man. He treated his soldiers fairly and always made sure that they knew when he was proud of them. He knew how to bring out the best in them—find something each of them could excel at and encourage them in it. But he had a very clear code of honor, and he held the world to it.” She smiled. “You learned all of your leadership from him.”

Link swallowed what felt like shards of glass in his throat. “Fi said that I hid her from my father for a week. I was thirteen, then.”

“What?” Zelda’s jaw dropped. Link stood, having pulled on his boots at last. Instead of the traditional cap, he had his hair up in the fashion of the desert voe, with sapphires to cool him in the heat. “You never told me that! We all thought you had found it—”

“When I was eighteen,” he said. “Which means my father also helped me keep the Sword a secret.”

“No wonder you were so proficient with it,” she murmured. “The king was so impressed.”

Link’s cheeks reddened a little, but he cleared his throat. “When we get to the molduga, things are going to start moving really fast. Climb onto something solid as quickly as you can. Use the round bombs to attract it, and Stasis it when it’s stunned. Then we can both charge it until Stasis wears off.”

“Still feels like cheating,” she noted.

“No referee,” he replied, and they went in search of sand seals.

 

As they traveled, it occurred to Zelda that she had never seen a modulga before and therefore had no idea what made the molduking so formidable. Was it larger? Stronger?

When she shouted her question to Link, he threw up his hands. “No clue! Only seen the normal ones. They just look like really fat toads. With teeth. And a flat tail.”

She soon saw what he meant; a terrible, gargantuan beast burst out of the sand in the distance and leaped high in the air, jaws wide. Then it turned and fell head-first back into the sand and disappeared. It had been white and red, like brick, and it shimmered in the morning light—probably the embedded weapons of its ill-fated challengers.

“Yeah, it’s bigger,” Link shouted.

They released their sand seals just before they reached the heart of the Barrens. There were several stone pillars, archways, and bare foundations scattered about the desert around them, and they split up to find safe perches—the molduking had heard their footsteps, and its dorsal fin cut through the sand toward them at lightning speed.

Zelda caught a blue, spherical bomb in her arm and drop-kicked it the molduking’s general direction. It changed course immediately as it heard the ball skittering on the sand.

She could not help the shriek that escaped her when it finally burst out of the sand. She was so small in comparison that it was difficult to believe she could ever hope to kill such a beast.

But such was the wonder of ancient technology and magic: she jammed the detonate button on the Slate and watched light flare up inside the molduking’s throat. It fell to the earth, smoke leaking from its slack jaw, and she quickly turned Stasis on and locked the molduking in time.

“Great job—!”

Before Zelda had moved from her safe position, Link had landed on top of the molduking and sank the Sword into its back. Green flames danced around him, and as he withdrew his sword and raised it again, Zelda felt her hair stand on end with the electricity in the air.

Urbosa’s Fury rained down on the molduking as Link struck again.

Zelda charged the molduking, her own sword drawn. Up close, she could see just how many weapons had been lost to its thick hide. It smelled like burnt fish and ozone in the aftermath of the lightning strike, and its blue tongue lolled from between its wicked teeth.

She braced herself and swung her saber.

She felt every impact all the way to her teeth, and she let loose a battle cry to keep them from shattering. She could feel the Slate on her hip vibrating as Stasis weakened, and she took one last stab at the molduking’s nearest eye before scurrying back, breathless, to the nearest stone platform.

The bonds of time shattered, and the molduking finally reacted to their attacks; it flailed and screamed and bled, and finally it dove back into the sand.

Link sprinted toward her, leading the molduking on a merry chase. His face was a picture of rapturous exhilaration.

“Adrenaline junkie,” Zelda proclaimed as she prepared another bomb.

It took several runs to whittle down the molduking’s strength. Once Link had lost the strength to summon Urbosa’s Fury, he switched out the Master Sword for an Ancient battle axe that Zelda would have been utterly fascinated by under any other circumstance.

“Should be soon,” he promised Zelda, panting, after one such run. She was quite tired herself, but now that she had gotten the hang of things, she embraced the thrill of it all. “You’re doing great. Taking out that eye was a good call.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said cheerly, and detonated another bomb inside the molduking’s gut.

Link had been right: when Stasis broke after Zelda stabbed her saber into the molduking’s side, its writhing was less of a threat and more of a weakened flop. It did not retreat into the sand; it gasped for breath on the surface, its blue-green blood draining out from between its scales.

It was a pitiful sight. Zelda wished, suddenly, that this had not been her task. Like a wild horse that kicks to kill, or the hawk that steals the house cat, the molduking must hunt travelers on a baser instinct than malice.

Link tipped her chin up with a knuckle that was slick with blood. “You alright, Zelda?”

She sighed. “I would like to end its suffering,” she said, and she approached the molduking for the last time.

Zelda was shocked when the molduking began to crumble into ash, and she coughed and spluttered in the explosion of soot that followed its death. Entire treasure chests were left in its wake, as well as all the weapons that had found a place in its hide.

“They were keeping it alive for you,” Link said from behind her. “It should have died long ago, crumbled to dust.”

She felt slightly less bad for ending its life, then, if had been cursed by the gods.

They made their way to the Shrine that had appeared in the distance. The molduking’s blood had also disintegrated when it died, but Zelda was still drenched in sweat and covered in baked-on sand. It was a welcome reprieve to be inside a Shrine again.

Completing the circuit was fairly simple, but when they reached the end she was surprised to find a new apparatus off to the side, just beside Keive Tala.

“It’s fun,” Link said. “Here.”

He tapped the Slate against the console, then withdrew it. The platform that held the laser on the other side of the ravine moved in the same direction, as though puppetted by the Slate. He handed it to Zelda, who was happy to lose herself to the mechanism.

Even after she completed the puzzle, she continued to make observations of the apparatus. She didn’t even realize that Link had picked up a shield.

“This shield is given only to Gerudo captains,” Link said, approaching her with it. “This one is clearly enchanted. It’s yours.”

Zelda pocketed the Slate and accepted the Radiant shield. She loved her Guardian shield but there was just something about having won this for herself out of her own smarts and skill that really made this one shine.

She was still annoyed that Kieve Tala still said nothing to her about what she was supposed to do with the gifts she was collecting from the Shrines. But she found that she didn’t mind quite as much, now that she had remembered what hope really felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!


	15. Warrior Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason this BOTW fic is also a Hyrule Warriors fic. ;) Warrior Princess Zelda is the best Zelda besides scholarly Zelda. With their powers combined...!

When they returned to Riju’s throne room, they were met with applause. “My spies tell me you vanquished the molduking,” she said. “What auspicious timing, Princess of Hyrule.”

“Thank you, Riju.”

Riju waved her servants off. “Now, I know that you will be venturing to the Karusa Valley to complete your next quest. I must ask for a favor while you are in the Highlands. There is a rare Frost Talus that is said to reside just above the canyon there. I happen to know that, when defeated, a Frost Talus will drop sapphires and diamonds. I require several in payment for my hospitality.”

Zelda’s heart sank. She had known it was rude of her to call upon Riju’s hospitality and graciousness with no way of repaying it—the treasury of Hyrule was likely empty. She truly was a queen without a kingdom…

“Easy peasy,” Link said. “Sounds fair. I have a few if you’d like them now.”

Zelda glanced at him in shock as he reached into his pack and began pulling out hunks of ore as big as his fists. Riju’s eyes also went wide. “Then forget the Talus,” she said. “See, Buliara, I told you they were good for it.”

Buliara turned bright red and accepted the jewels from Link in silence.

“I have an errand to run,” Link said. “I’ll be gone the rest of the afternoon.” He pointed at Zelda. “Don’t get into trouble. Get some rest.” He looked at Riju and Buliara. “Don’t let her worry about stuff.”

Before any of the women could protest, he had plucked the Slate from Zelda’s hip and vanished into aura.

 

Zelda spent the afternoon with Riju in the throne room while the chief entertained citizens and visitors who required favors from her. The process was a familiar one to Zelda, who had seen her mother perform such duties growing up—and learned, quickly, how to do them herself after her mother’s death. She had carefully practiced gracious apologies and stern rebukes and found polite ways to decline favors (and suitors). Fortunately, given the no-voe policy of the Town, Riju didn’t have to deal with _those_.

She admired Riju’s cool, slick attitude when it came to negotiating with tradeswomen for the supplies that the guards needed. There was nothing more annoying to a merchant than traveling across all of Hyrule just to have to barter, but Riju’s calm, silky words always left them satisfied—even when she got the better deal.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon Riju invited Zelda up to her chambers to dine there, considering it was just the two of them that evening. It was the first time Zelda had been up to the chief’s private rooms, though Link had secretly told her of the many plush sand seals.

“Oh, these are even cuter—” she saw a flash in Riju’s eye and remembered that she was _not_ supposed to have known about the toys already “—than anything I had at the castle!”

The danger passed, and at Riju’s wide smile, Zelda praised the Three for sparing her. “Thank you,” Riju said, “my mother had them made. They are very soft.” She picked up a particularly squishy one and handed it to Zelda before flopping down on her canopy bed.

“I thought you might want to think about something other than destiny for a while,” the young chief said as Zelda settled on a chaise lounge nearby.

She raised her eyebrows at the chief.

“Given your scholarly background, you might be able to help me with a riddle.”

Chief Riju certainly had her _pinned_.

“Before the King of Hyrule enlisted Gerudo scholars in the location and excavation of Vah Naboris, our studies were focused on another archaeological site in the eastern desert—below Spectacle Rock, in fact.

“It is a canyon that houses statues of the Seven Heroines, divine protectors of the Gerudo. People once came from around the world in search of the Heroines’ blessing. It is one of my dreams to improve our understanding of the legend that surrounds the Heroines, for many details have been lost to time. Perhaps then I may reinstate the pilgrimages to the monument.”

“That is quite admirable of you,” Zelda said. “I didn’t know that your people had made such an incredible historical discovery!”

“Yes. And many of those scholars have been lost to us over the years. I inherited their notes, and one day I discovered the riddle.” Riju pointed at a notebook on her desk, and Zelda stretched to pick it up. A ribbon marked the note about the inscription, and Zelda recited it aloud:

_“Restore the power of the Heroines; let the Hero in.”_

“Each Heroine is said to have had a different power: skill, spirit, endurance, knowledge, flight, motion, and gentleness. That is all I know about them, really.” Riju sighed. “We both know _who_ the Hero is, but I did not want to ask him until I knew what, exactly, he must do, and I did not want to distract him from his quest to save you.”

Zelda understood. _“Gerudo, a resilient desert flower, facing the sun’s gaze—Gerudo, well-versed in ancient ways,”_ she recalled. “I would be happy to help you if I can, Lady Riju. I’m certainly more skilled at reading than I am at fighting molduga.”

“And it seems that you are quite talented at that.” Riju waved her hand at the journal. “Take that with you, and take your time. I will send you the other documents I have on the matter. My greatest minds have toiled over it for years without product, so I do not expect you to come to any major revelation in the near future.”

Zelda closed the journal and leaned back to regard the young Gerudo with appraising eyes. There were many things about Riju that betrayed her age (the plush sand seals, for example), but her wisdom and thoughtfulness were well-beyond what Zelda would expect even from most leaders twice their age. “You remind me a lot of Urbosa,” she said.

Before they could continue their conversation, they were interrupted by a host of servants bringing dinner and music. Riju did not seem keen to continue their conversation around prying ears, and Zelda settled down to read the field journal while they ate.

 

When Link returned, it was quite late. Zelda was already in their shared room, brushing sand out of her hair. She dropped her hairbrush when a shimmering blue symbol appeared in the air above her belongings; she recognized it as the same symbol that decorated the Travel gates of Shrines and knew that her travel medallion had to have been activated.

Link landed lightly in the middle of the circle, and the light faded. He was dressed in skin-tight armor like a Sheikah spy, but it was as black as shifting shadows, while traditional Sheikah armor she knew was mostly white.

“Have fun with Riju?”

“Yes—more than I thought. She gave me some truly fascinating journals from her historians to look over.” She beamed at him as he came to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “What were _you_ up to?”

“Do you remember the errand I ran while we were in Kakariko?” He pulled a bulky parcel wrapped in paper out of his bag and set it on the bed. “It’s finally ready.”

She tore open the package immediately, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of the fabric, she knew what it was. She stood, lifting the armor to her chest to check the fit. Link looked quite pleased. “I remembered the measurements you told the tailor in Hateno.”

The stealth armor was a darker shade of Hylian Blue, the color reserved for royal livery. The material was as soft as a whisper, and it made no sound when it rubbed together. The vambraces were bound with white stealth fabric to silence any blow that might land on them, and the toe boots were supple and soled with thin rubber to increase grip.

But he had brought her more than just her own stealth armor. The next thing he handed her was something she recognized from a textbook: the helmet worn by the Sheikah who saved the time-traveling Hero. The Sheikah who was, truly, the Goddess-blood Princess in disguise. It was a treasure of the Sheikah tribe, and to hold it in her hands—

“I told Impa of our progress and of the task ahead. She said it would not be Wise for her to keep it from you.”

Zelda’s eyes were watering with excitement. Beneath the Sheikah armor was something foreign to her, but she recognized its beauty. The golden armor was light but coated in magic for durability. Each vambrace came to a point that would shield her fists, and the symbol of the Triforce was emblazoned there on the back of her hands—where it should be.

Link helped her try it on, pointing out which straps connected where, and in what order each piece of plate armor should be donned. The gambeson was a quilted vest of Hylian Blue with a band collar to prevent chafing from the shoulder armor; the spauldrons were articulated and refined, slim to fit her shoulders but designed to broaden her silhouette in an imposing fashion, and they extended inward to protect her neck. The cuirass was of two interlocking plates, and a strip of fabric embroidered in white with the royal crest had been attached the breastplate. The faulds were long to protect her hips and thighs, but the only other leg armor present were the greaves and boots—in the style of the desert voe, which she had become accustomed to.

She found it strange to move in the armor, though the enchantments upon it decreased its weight. Even walking around the room was awkward, for the shoes articulated into the greaves in a way that could catch if she weren’t careful.

But with every step, she felt more like a princess than she had even one hundred years ago. A _warrior princess._

Link showed her then how to strap on her sword to her hip rather than to her back, and how to draw it swiftly. He took a step back as she took a practice swing, his eyes shining. He had never seen her look so self-assured or walk with her head held as high as she did in her mother’s armor.

“Impa had been holding on to this for you since your mother died,” he said.

Zelda froze in place, her eyes wide upon the revelation. This armor had been made for her mother? Had her father _known?_ She could not imagine any universe in which her father would have allowed such a thing. And yet, the armor fit her so snugly it had to have been made for her—and she knew that it was impossible for Link to have commissioned a set of armor as fine as this in such a short amount of time. It must have been her mother’s.

“She could never have worn it,” she said softly, mostly to herself. “She must have…made it for _me.”_ Link closed the distance between them and began unbuckling the spauldrons from her shoulders as she mulled over the implications. “I could have worn _this_ into battle with the Calamity and not that _stupid_ dress!”

Link laughed, because of course, that was what her mind jumped to first.

When he had removed all of the plate armor, he reached to unclasp the gambeson at the base of her throat. She caught his hand and stood on her toes to pull the Sheikah stealth scarf down from his face with her other hand.

He stood too stoically for her liking, waiting for her to lead in every step of he dance they were to play: to start before he started, to progress before he followed. She realized it in an instant, and it pleased her some, but it frustrated her more. She sat back on her heels. “Link,” she said, her voice low, “are you not getting the hint?”

The tips of his ears had turned pink, but Link continued undoing her gambeson and let it drop to the floor. She stood resolutely, waiting for his answer.

The truth was, every time she kissed him his mind was flooded with memories of a thousand ancient kisses. Tender kisses stolen in shadows of the castle when no one was looking; terrible, desperate kisses on the battle field in the midst of gory clashes with uncertain endings; passionate, all-consuming kisses in the dark wilderness where no courtiers or citizens or guards could see. It was hardest to ground himself in the Link he was now, the compilation of all of the Heroes past, when the memories of each individual moment was so strong.

He removed his own gloves once her armor was removed. He appreciated her patience, but he needed this—the sensation of his skin against hers, the full smell of her in his lungs, the sight of her green eyes looking up at his—in order to remember that yes, she was every princess she had ever been, every woman he had ever loved, but she was also the very real, living woman who stood before him with eyes that demanded he hurry up and kiss her already.

Her body radiated warmth through the soft fabric of her night dress, and her newly-tan, freckled shoulders were nearly hot to the touch. His calloused fingers trailed across the exposed skin of her arm up to the end of her collarbone, then made their way up to her chin to tip it up to his. He felt her sharp intake of breath as his other hand brushed her long hair away from her face and came to rest at the back of her neck.

When he kissed her, he kissed her slowly to commit every sensation to memory. Her lips parted and she looped her arms around his neck to pull him closer, and it was good to be so immersed in her warmth again. Her fingers carded through the hair that had come loose from its bun at the back of his neck; her nails scraped his scalp and coaxed a shiver down his spine. He wanted her closer, wanted her to be physically as part of him as she was a part of his soul.

He moved one arm to her waist to lift her off her feet and set her down at the side of the bed, never breaking the kiss. She broke away only to push him into bed, and followed him down. Link reached for her immediately and pulled her on top of him. She propped herself up with her forearms on either side of his head, her fingers brushing his hair away from his face even as her own hair swung forward to curtain them from the world.

His muscles did not remember kissing as well as his mind did, and he was happy to let Zelda take the lead and set the pace. She leaned down to kiss him, nudging his lips apart to meet his tongue with hers. He couldn’t help but melt; chest against chest, legs tangled together haphazardly, her fingers running through his hair—this was bliss.

Link allowed his hands to wander then, feeling out the new strength in her back that had come from picking up the sword. His hands followed the curve of her ribs, palms ghosting along her sides then down to her hips. She made a pleased sound in her chest and slid her arms forward to lower herself and press her body entirely against the line of his.

She broke away and pressed her ear against his chest. It beat steady, though hers she felt must be fluttering like a nervous bird. This was so achingly sweet, to be with him, to be grounded to her physical form through sensation and in contrast against his own body. She knew, she knew, she loved him. Nothing could ever feel more right than this. No place had ever felt safer than here in his arms.

He exhaled slowly, and his breath stirred her hair. “I was so angry…at the end,” he said. His voice was a deep rumble under her cheek. “In a thousand thousand lifetimes, I was never allowed to love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R!


	16. Savage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I earn my M rating. Please be advised. :)

His words ignited a fire in her just as they had that apocalyptic day.

Covered in mud and his own blood, a thread’s breadth away from death, he had forced those words from his drowning lungs and filled her with a righteous fury that would sustain her for one hundred years.

_“—not the first time…I’ve died…without being allowed to love you.”_

Even then, she had heard the ancient pain in his voice that was a pain beyond death. A pain he had carried his whole life. A pain that had convinced her that he was right: they were more than flesh and blood; they were two cursed souls, doomed to accumulate pain through the centuries until the world collapsed under the weight of their misery

She had tried so hard in those last weeks before the Calamity to stave off that bitter conviction of his. She believed they would come to a breakthrough in the ancient technology that would save them. She believed that if she prayed longer, harder, at the Spring of her patron Goddess, she would unlock her Sealing Power. She believed that her friends, and yes, Link, were strong enough to make up for her failures.

But in that moment, she gave in. She cursed the Goddesses, the Mothers of this cruel world that had allowed such a loyal man to love her for a thousand lifetimes and die for her in each one, but never allowed him to be happy. She cursed the Goddesses for the cruelty of tying her power to the one thing she could never have allowed herself to entertain: love for her Knight. She cursed the Goddesses for letting him die for her again when _she should have been the one—_

Zelda sat up to meet his eyes. It was suddenly imperative that he know. He knew she had been a heretic for her anger toward the Golden Ones and her lack of faith in her own power, and that she had loved him enough to vanquish an army of Guardians to protect him (too late). But he needed to know:

“I didn’t go back to the castle to save Hyrule,” she told him in a whisper, as though the Goddesses wouldn’t hear. “I went to the castle to give you a chance. And a choice.”

His ancient eyes, as blue as aura and as deep as the ocean, glimmered in the dying light of the lamps at their bedside. His arms tightened around her, and in one fluid movement he reversed their positions. He pressed his forehead to hers, lips a hair’s breadth from her lips, and whispered, “I will always choose you.”

She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat and reminding him, and reminding herself, that there were no priestesses or goddesses or curses who could keep them apart—not even death itself.

 

_When her lips found his throat, he reminded her that he had been transformed into a wolf not just in body—but in spirit. He flipped them over so that she was pinned beneath him, her hands clutched in a vice grip above her head against the mattress. His teeth were on her neck, delicate but still a threat. Her heart thundered in her chest at the thrill of it._

_He kept her hands held tight as he ravished her neck and nosed his way down to her chest. He pressed a fiery kiss to her breastbone, then returned to her mouth with a hunger that could not be contained. Her elbows flexed against his grip; her hands needed to be in his hair, exploring his back, pulling him ever closer. He would not yet allow it, so all she could do was open her mouth to his wicked tongue and lose herself to the feeling._

_His hand that was not currently holding hers hostage had found its way to her thigh and was busy pushing up her skirts. Every time his calloused fingers met her skin, her toes curled with anticipation._

_Her gasp was lost in his mouth when his palm slid up her thigh to her hip, then down to the juncture between her legs. His thumb rested in just the right spot to tell her that he had her all figured out by now._

_He smiled when she tore away from his kiss to stretch her body closer to him, to find the pressure and motion she craved. He gave it to her, at first achingly gentle with the sensitive bundle of nerves under his thumb. Before she could get frustrated with his pace, he increased the speed and pressure of his ministrations and sent her pleasure arcing like lightning through her._

_After bringing her to the edge of bliss and back, he released her hands and ducked under her skirts. She felt his nose brush against her inner thigh, followed by his slick lips in a kiss. Then his tongue replaced his fingers, and she threw her head back with a hiss of gratitude. She did not have the presence of mind to bring her hands to his hair and instead fisted them in her skirts and the sheets, then grasped at her chest as the white-hot fire of her climax reached even her heart._

_This was a night of urgency, it seemed, for he did not give her time to return his generosity. Instead, after her next climax had wracked her body with sublime shudders, he dragged himself up and returned his mouth, briefly, to hers. He broke away when she hooked a leg around his hips and pulled him dangerously close. They locked eyes, and finally, he leaned into her warmth—_

 

Zelda with a disoriented jerk, caged tightly in Link’s arms, every inch of him pressed against every inch of her. His grip on her tightened instinctively, though he did not seem to wake. Which was good, because Zelda could hardly compose herself. Her heart raced in the throes of the memory; she was sore between her legs. She had felt every sensation like it was real—well, it had been real, once, hadn’t it?

The thought did not help.

She looked up at his dreaming face and found it so similar to the man in her dream it was easy to accept that they housed the same soul. But he looked more like her Link, the young man she had known and first come to love one hundred years ago, when he was asleep. The thinness of him, the hollowness he had acquired after months on the road, was not so evident. He was soft and warm and peaceful, and no quite so… _wild_.

Zelda took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to ground herself in her current reality. She wished she had her diary once more. She needed to get this memory of tangled limbs slick with sweat and—

She needed it out of her head.

She exhaled heavily and slipped out of Link’s arms. Every movement tingled with the aftershocks of her dream. She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her palms to her eyes. She had been named Zelda then, too. But the feeling of that body was taller, more willowy, more lithe. Every movement was certain, calculated. She was _confident_. If she remembered anything of that life, beyond that tantalizing dream, it was the certainty with which she had carried herself as princess and then as queen. She had needed it. Her court was full of cowards and power-hungry sneaks…

Link had begun to stir behind her. “You were a wolf, once?” she asked through her hands.

He sat up and scooted closer, then leaned forward to try and catch her gaze. “Yes, but why does that seem to trouble you so much?”

She shook her head. “Just processing.” But she could not bring her gaze to his. Her traitorous cheeks were flushed. “Why were you a wolf?”

“Kass has a song about it,” he said. “There was once another world attached to ours, home to the Twili… They considered the wolf a divine beast, one who would appear to save them in a desperate time. I entered the Twilight Realm with their cursed princess, Midna, to free the Twili and Hyrule Castle from the shadows brought by a sorcerer who was backed by Ganon… It got complicated.”

“The first Divine Beast,” Zelda mused. This was helping distract her from his body heat next to her. “Midna…”

“Her helmet is somewhere in Hyrule.” Link leaned over the edge of the bed for his pack and rummaged around for something. That something turned out to be a journal—one that had clearly been out in the wilderness for some time. “A thief hid several ancient relics of our past across Hyrule. ‘The princess of twilight, whose stories are handed down alongside those of the Hero of Twilight… Her helmet can be found at the temple ruins soaked in the water of Regencia River.’”

Zelda finally looked up at him. “That must be whatever is left of Sage Temple.”

He nodded. “I haven’t gone for it yet. Those memories are some of the…heavier.”

She sensed that he was speaking of something more serious than _trysts_. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “But would you tell me?” she asked softly.

Link’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked down at their joined hands. “I’ve been thinking, Zelda, that maybe it’s wrong of me to want you to remember this,” he said, “because it’s heavy. It’s what gave Despair a foothold in my soul in the first place—”

“But that’s part of the process, isn’t it? Anger, bitterness, acceptance, peace… I want to reach that place, Link. And I would rather that _fulfilled_ peace rather than that which comes with ignorance.”

Link’s blue, blue eyes, crusted a little with sleep, drifted back to hers. There was a darkness in them, like sorrow. “That sounds very Wise,” he murmured.

So he told her of what he remembered. It was blurry around the edges, he warned her, but he had enough of it to give her the summary. He told her of the monsters of shadow-made-solid that infiltrated Hyrule, and of the sad, shadowy spirits of all who had crossed from Hyrule into the twilight.

And he told her of Midna. Of her sharp wit and scathing tongue, which he could never laugh at for wolves cannot laugh. Of how she had come to respect, even love the Princess of Hyrule for her honor and nobility and courage. Of how Zelda had given herself to save Midna, and how her death had rocked Link and Midna both to the core.

He had not remembered Zelda in that life, but even without that, he felt their connection.

Of course, they had done all in their power to revive Zelda, and once they had finally defeated Ganon the three heroes had made their way back to the Mirror of Twilight. Zelda had grand plans for unification, but Midna—perhaps out of a Wisdom that was beyond that of Nayru herself—shattered the Mirror and separated their worlds forever.

Link told her then of how he had laid the Sword to rest and returned with Zelda, finally, to Hyrule. He had stayed with her as she rebuilt her kingdom, but her venomous courtiers and advisers would not spare her the mockery that came with courting a goat boy.

So one day he rode away with only his shield to his name, and he faded into the twilight.

Tears streaked down Zelda’s face as waves of memories crashed over her. They flitted out of her grasp if she tried to focus on them, recall detail, but the overwhelming feeling of loneliness would not leave her.

She reached for Link, and he pulled her close.

“Kass told me that lonely travelers can ask for the company of the Hero of Twilight, and no harm will come to your camp that night,” Link said softly into her hair. “I had sworn not to become the Shade of the Fallen Hero, and yet in the end that is what I became.”

Zelda tightened her grip around him. “I’m sorry for ruining your morning.”

He did not answer, only pressed his cheek to her head and sighed.

 

“So you brought me stealth armor, does that mean we will be headed to the Yiga base soon?”

They had finally extricated themselves from each others’ grasp and prepared to face the day. With slices of hydromelon in hand, they had left Riju’s palace and went down to the training yard. Link had suggested she practice in her stealth armor today, and she was filled with excited energy now that she was dressed as her legendary ancestor.

“I need to make you a glider first,” he said. “Then you need to get comfortable with it.”

“Do you have any idea _how_ to make a glider?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “but that’s never stopped me.”

They had reached their usual corner of the training yard. “Alright, Captain,” Zelda said. “What are we working on today?

“I need you to prove to me that you can really defend yourself if you have to.” Link waved at Buliara, who had started to cross the yard toward them. “If you’re coming with me to that viper’s den, you’re not going to have the option of whether to disarm your opponent and run or to kill them. There’s no choice. Buliara is nine feet tall and weighs as much as a Yiga Blademaster, and she knows all of their dirty tricks. She is going to come at you with all of them, and you will need to counter them with such skill that she is confident you could and would kill her.”

Zelda bristled at his tone, but she knew he was right. She had shown too much hesitation to hit him in their training, and her guilt at even wounding the Yiga assassin in the desert was evidence enough that she was not ready to _kill_. Still, her heart beat wildly at the thought of facing such a towering, menacing opponent.

She ground her teeth. “Alright,” she said. “Go make me a glider.”

 

Zelda would never complain about Link’s training ever again. He was stern, but he was gentle and kind with his critique. Buliara was _not_. She had no regard for Zelda’s feelings and barked out orders to put more of her weight on the balls of her feet, move faster, duck quicker. And Buliara did not mind hurting her. She worked with a long wooden stick—as long as a Windcleaver—that left welts on Zelda’s arms and shoulders and thighs whenever it struck. She learned quickly to _dodge_.

The princess hoped that Riju wasn’t watching, both for the sake of her own embarrassment and for the Gerudo chieftain’s desire to become a warrior. This was humiliating, and she would not blame anyone else for giving up just to be done with the torture.

Zelda gasped for breath after landing heavily on her back, and she took a moment to stare at the blue of the sky above her. Would the Goddesses strike her down if she decided here and now to never get up, never pursue their quest?

But she stood painstakingly once more and used the end of her stealth scarf to wipe sweat from her brow. She picked up her dummy again and faced Buliara.  
Link had told her she had the skill to beat him one day. If that was true, then she should be able to best Buliara.

“What am I failing at?” she asked Buliara as they squared off again. “I am moving fast, I am dodging fast, I feel like I get close enough—I’ve even disarmed you a few times—”

“You have a weak spirit,” Buliara said flatly. “You will never have it in you to kill a man. I don’t know why Link asked me to try and beat that into you: that kind of hardness comes from leading a hard life. You are a Princess.”

 _I am a Goddess,_ Zelda thought sourly. She had singlehandedly kept the Calamity under her foot for one hundred years, the cursed snake. She was of fiercer blood than Buliara knew…than _anyone_ knew. She had never learned it in the history textbooks, but in the memory of her dream and the stories Link told her, she had been a queen of war. She had led _troops_. She had her own ancestors’ sword—not a ceremonial blade but a wicked sword made for piercing hearts, and lots of them.

She had been a warrior at least twice in the past: in the Twilight era and in the time of Sheik. She _did_ have it in her. And as much as she liked the thought of never raising a sword against a living creature again, she knew she did not have the armies and guardsmen to do the dirty work of protection and enforcement for her.

It would be _her_ hand.

It would be _her_ sword.

She lunged.

 

When Link returned, Buliara and Zelda were sitting in the shade drinking hearty Gerudo teas to soothe their aches and pains. Buliara noticed Link approaching first.

“Here.” She reached into her pocket and produced a tinkling bag of rupees.

Link’s smirk was as wicked as the edge of the Master Sword. He accepted the bag and jingled it. “The bet was,” he told Zelda, who looked on aghast, “that you would beat Buliara at least thirty times. Congratulations, Princess.”

Zelda felt the tips of her ears color. “Oh,” she said meekly. Had it been thirty?

“Forty-five,” Buliara proclaimed. “I think she even started having some fun with it.”

Link chuckled and reached for his back. “Are you in any shape to jump off a mountain?”

Zelda gulped down the last of her tea and jumped up. “You made it?”

“Grante helped me out,” Link admitted. “He says hello.”

He whipped out the paraglider and spread it out for her to see. He had clearly sewn it—or gotten someone to sew it for him—with care. The fabric folded around the wood and back on itself for strength, and the grips were padded, unlike his own. A charm dangled from the back of it: a small metal crest of the royal family. She recognized it as a pendant of honor given to captains of the Royal Guard upon retirement.

The fabric of the glider was a banner that had once hung in the Sanctum of Hyrule Castle. It was weathered but intact, miraculously, and the satiny blue and deep crimson were as vibrant as though they were new. The gold embroidery of her house’s crest glinted in the late afternoon light.

She was speechless as she took from his hands.


	17. All the Time in the World.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another explicit chaapterrrr.

She wasn’t sure where he was taking her. He had said she wouldn’t need warm clothing, though she saw him throw a blanket into his pack just in case. She tried to get a look at the Slate, but he managed to press the Travel button before she could see which gate he had selected. As the aura pulled her to pieces and blew her over Hyrule, she tried to think of possible destinations. They could go to any of the Sheikah Towers, of course, to practice. Or they could go to the Ancient Tech Lab—there were enough hills nearby that it wouldn’t be so terrible to climb back up…

Zelda did not recognize the hilly grassland in which Link had placed his Travel Medallion. He holstered the Slate and crossed his arms while she went to the crest of the hill to look around.

She had put on light clothing after her match with Buliara, and the pink, gauzy material that adorned her shoulders and the hem of her clinging tunic fluttered in the breeze. She had braided her hair in anticipation of the wind. She surveyed the land with her hands on her hips, and, framed against the green aurora at the top of Mount Lanayru, she looked like a divine creature from another world.

To the northeast, Zelda could make out the faint glimmer of Lanayru Promenade and the shadow of the East Gate; green aurora snaked around the crest of Mount Lanayru in the distance like Nayru’s own banners. That meant that Kakariko was close to their southwest. She assumed he had chosen the spot, then, for its proximity to safety and assistance should they need it, and for its mild weather.

“From here, we can glide straight down the length of this range,” Link said when she returned to his side. “There’s enough of a grade that you’ll get to test your stamina without worrying about falling far, or having to climb far back.” He seemed very proud of his choice. “To change directions and speed, you have to be able to raise and swing your legs mid-air. Your abs will be very, very sore tomorrow.”

“As if the sit-ups we’ve done haven’t already done that,” Zelda muttered, and she opened her glider.

Link made her open and shut the paraglider a thousand times on the ground before he would even consider letting her actually try to glide. Then he made her hopping off a small rock to practice opening the glider mid-air. Finally—finally!—they took off from the tallest hill together.

Link called to her and instructed her on how to swing her feet to change directions and how to lean if she wanted to slow down. She was quite pleased to find that her strenuous introduction to swordsmanship had largely prepared her muscles for the worst of paragliding. Soon, Zelda suspected that their lesson was over, for Link had started to horse around. They raced down the length of the Promenade, over ruins that had been ruins even one hundred years ago. Link beat her, which turned out to be a blessing: a silver lynel still prowled in the snowfield just beyond the East Gate.

Link caught her around the waist with one arm just before her feet touched the ground and slammed a button on the Sheikah Slate with the other. She was caught by the aura while in mid-air, and when gravity kicked in when she rematerialized, it dragged her down viciously. Link followed in a tangle of limbs and gliders.

Zelda blinked up at her knight’s face, very close to her own, and she was reminded that the Goddesses were punishing her.

Link buried his head in her neck. “That wasn’t my smoothest landing.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. He raised his head again to smile at her, and she took his face in her hands and kissed him. Why not? It was highly unlikely that any Sheikah from Kakariko would wander out here, and certainly no traveler would climb the cliffs to reach them.

Link was surprised by her boldness, at the assurance with which she kissed him. Their previous kisses had been tinged with a little shyness; she knew what she wanted, but once she had laid it out for him she always seemed to fall back, wilt a little with shame or uncertainty—Link didn’t know which. But this was not like anything Link had experienced in this life.

Her lips were firm against his, and he yielded; when her daring tongue danced across his, he granted her entrance to his mouth and relished in her warmth. Her hands went to his hair and his back, her long, delicate fingers splayed out between his shoulders as they explored the length of his hair, the line of his spine.

Link propped himself up on his forearms, tracing the shell of her ear with one hand as he tried to remove his brain from the situation and let himself get swept away by the beautiful young woman beneath him. She pulled him deeper into the kiss, and he obliged. How could he not, when her hand was molded to the back of his neck and guided him so assuredly?

Her fingers had found the buckle that kept his sword slung across his back, and the Master Sword slid from between his shoulders to the grass beside them. Next was the Slate and his quiver, and then Link felt the cool pads of her fingers on the skin at the base of his spine.

He couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through him. She _had_ touched him before; he had slept without a shirt and slept _with her_ , so it shouldn’t have been such a new sensation. But it was. It was like being fried by lightning—and just as frightening.

Link pulled away from her and pushed himself up so that he was at a full arm’s length above her. He needed to look her in the eye and assess what in the world was going on.

It was a struggle to find words when he could still taste her on his tongue.

“Zelda…” He took a deep breath and exhaled upward to blow his bangs out of his eyes. “Would you like to go back to—”

“No.”

Her hands now were on his chest, fingers knotted in the ties to his undershirt, which peeked out from the neck of his tunic. “I would change nothing about this situation,” she said pleasantly. “Would you?”

The summer breeze was as warm as beside a campfire, and sunset fireflies had begun to dance in the grass around them. Overhead, stars winked down at them like jewels, and the Hero held his Goddess-Made-Flesh in his arms.

“I wish I could read your mind,” was all he said in reply. Then Link returned to kissing his princess ardently, and Zelda hummed happily under him.

Link had remembered some things about previous lives of his better than others, and sex was one of them. Those memories generally remained seared into his brain once they came to him. But despite the intellectual knowledge of what he had done, what he was supposed to do, Link found himself uncertain of where to start.

Fortunately, Zelda was just as inexperienced—though she made up for it with confidence. Her hands braved the length of his back once more and found the scars he had acquired there, under his tunic. Link trailed kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck, reveling in the way her breath hitched when his teeth skimmed across her skin with his smile. He had realized, as her fingers traced his scars and the curve of muscles and the ridge of bones, that she was _studying him_. Figuring out the shape of him, committing each detail to memory.

His chest was tight with the adoration he felt for her, his scholar-goddess-princess- _lover_.

Zelda was starting to feel the ache in her belly and between her legs just as she had that very morning. She knew now what could relieve it, and she slid both of her hands down to press against the flat muscles of his derrière. He groaned as his hips were pushed into hers, and she wanted to hear it again—and again, and again. She slid a leg around his, locking him into place, and ran her hands back up his back; this time, she pulled his tunic with her.

He lifted his arms to let her slip it off of him, then remained propped up for her to untie the neck of his undershirt, which was soon discarded as well. Then, Zelda braced her left forearm on the ground, pushed his shoulder with her right hand, and flipped them over so she was sitting on his lap and he was spread out beneath her, bare from the waist up. She _felt_ a twitch between her legs, and she ground her hips down against him again.

He closed his eyes, lips parted as he tried to hold himself together. “Princess,” he said.

“Mmm?”

His breath caught in his throat as she leaned forward, hands sliding along his forearms until their fingers laced together again. Her face was inches from his when he opened his eyes. “What are we doing…?”

“As much as we want,” she responded, kissed him searingly, and then slipped further down to place a kiss squarely on the mortal wound above his heart.

Link’s fingers tightened around hers as she made her way lower, marveling in the sight of what she had felt with her fingers moments before. The scars looked less gruesome in the light of the moon; they seemed more like badges of honor, or warpaint. She found that his nipples were firm under her lips, that the taught muscles of his belly were quite sensitive to the tickle of her hair.

Link inhaled sharply when she kissed the skin just below his navel, and he seemed reluctant to let her hands go. But when she sat up to extricate them from his grasp, she saw his eyes wide on hers with nothing but anticipation in them. She kept his gaze as she undid his belt.

It was clumsy, getting his trousers off, but he finally sat up and kicked them away for her. Then she found herself sitting, only one garment away from his hardened member, and she froze. She could remember every bit of her dream, every climax, every shudder he had coaxed from her. She wanted to return the favor, but she knew not how—and she was afraid.

His arms came around her then, and he kissed her gently. His hands ran up and down her arms, slowly relieving the tension that had built in her shoulders. Her fear melted away under his touch, though her nervousness remained. “As much as we want,” he whispered when he broke the kiss, and he brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek.

Her eyelashes fluttered. This Hero, her Chosen Knight, her Champion, was as honorable as she could hope any man could be. And he was hers for eternity. Nothing she could possibly do here and now would change that.

“Can you show me how to love you?”

The tips of his ears were red, but he nodded. His eyes dropped as she slipped out of his lap and settled between his legs. She imagined it was as scandalous and nerve-wracking for him as it was for her—perhaps more. Thinking of that made her feel a little better, a little more calm.

In the absence of her mother, Purah of all people had told her about the male anatomy from a very clinical point of view when she had her first monthly cycle. Urbosa had filled in more intimate information, but neither woman had prepared her to see Link’s cock. Urbosa had laughed when Zelda asked if there was any nicer thing to call a man’s penis and said, one day, she would need to come up with her own.

Zelda bit her tongue. She needed to not think of Purah, or Urbosa, or the Hylian language, right now.

Link had slipped his left hand beneath his briefs, and then he was exposed to the night air and to the eyes of his princess. She rested a hand on his thigh as she watched him stroke himself _for_ _her_. His thumb came up under the ridge a the head of his cock, then swept over the top before sinking back down to the base. She tried to gauge how firm his grip was, tried her best not to giggle or cough or make any awkward sound that might break the tension in the air between them in a bad way.

A long breath escaped him, and he shivered. She took that as her cue to slip in.

Zelda leaned forward, her fingers brushing his as she nudged his hand off of his cock and sought to replace it with her own. His skin felt inflamed but as soft as anything she had ever felt before, and she was astonished at how firm he was all along his length. But his skin was also dry, and she knew—from instinct and from her maternal figures’ advice—that it was a situation to be remedied.

Zelda put her other hand against his hip to brace herself, and she traced the length of him with her tongue.

Link’s head hit the ground with a sharp thud. “Fuck,” he said loudly. “Fuck, fuck.”

He seemed to realize that his exclamation had startled her, and he raised his hand to her hair without sitting back up. “Sorry. I…this is…”

His voice failed him, but Zelda thought she understood. She felt the same way: this was an unbelievable moment that should not be happening, couldn’t have happened under any other circumstances except this. “No,” she said. “Don’t apologize. Words are helpful.”

Then, without waiting for a response, she slid her mouth over the head of his cock.

Link tasted like ocean water, brackish and warm, but she didn’t mind. With her face so close to his skin now, she could smell him much more strongly: lemon soap and safflina and smoke. She loved his smell so she tried to think of that as she took more of him into her mouth.

His fingers tangled in her hair, certainly ruining her braid, and she was surprised at how such a simple motion could ignite her own desire with such strength. She couldn’t help the sound that escaped her.

“Ah—”

Neither could Link.

His head slid across her tongue until she reached a point at which she was certain she would gag, then she pulled back so that only the tip of his cock was in her mouth. She tried to follow the motion with her hand, the twist and the pump she had watched him perform on himself just a few moments before. His reaction—a deep shudder and a slight buck of his hips—convinced her that she had him like putty in her hands.

Zelda continued what she had started, ears tuned to the gasps and hisses and groans of the man beneath her. The hand in her hair only continued to tighten, tugging at her scalp just enough to get her heart racing. He called her name, and she glanced up at him to see that he had sat up a little to watch. His chest and face were flushed with arousal, and every breath shook.

She let him slip out of her mouth and sat up, tucking her mussed hair behind her ear.

“Was that good?” she asked shyly.

He reached for her, and the kiss he pulled her into was tight and desperate and wet from the saliva that coated her mouth.

“You didn’t finish,” she protested when they broke away to gasp for breath.

Link didn’t answer. He had pressed his forehead against her shoulder and busied his hands with her boots and her belt. His fringe was soaked with sweat, but she ran her hands through his hair anyway.

When Link’s hand slipped between them and into her pants, she was suddenly swept away in the swirl of memory and dream and desire. His touch was not as certain as it had been in her dream—memory—but it was a thrill to know it _could_ _be_ , given practice, given the chance to learn her body.

She had tensed again as his fingers found her skin, and his own uncertainty had become apparent. His fingers were too slow as they slid into place, tentative as they explored the source of her discomfort and pleasure.

Zelda was embarrassed at how slick she was, considering he had only _kissed_ her thus far. But she was aroused by the situation—even just by _him_.

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her when his fingers hooked inside her. They hadn’t gone far, but the stretch of them inside her was foreign to her body and she remained tense and nervous now that Link had decided it was her turn.

His lips found her neck. “You’re so warm,” he whispered.

Link’s fingers slipped further into her until they met a painful barrier. A sharp twinge of pain jolted through her, and she raised her hips away from his fingers in response.

“You okay?” he asked quickly.

She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

He kissed her again, and she tried to give herself fully over the act of kissing him as she sank back down on his fingers. It was easier this time, but still distractingly _filling_. His tongue was also distracting, and this time, when he encountered her hymen, she only winced. His mouth over hers, his tongue grappling with hers, was more wonderful than anything else.

Link’s fingers were inside her to the knuckle, and his thumb rested naturally on her clit. He rubbed it back and forth with tantalizing gentleness, absorbed in the way her inner walls trembled and tightened around his fingers with every brush.

Zelda shuddered suddenly. _“Please_ , Link,” she said, and her voice was desperate.

She was utterly disappointed when he removed his hand entirely and pushed her off of him, but he quickly made up for it. He _licked_ his fingers exquisitely as he removed her boots entirely with one hand.

Zelda fell back into the grass. The sight of his tongue snaking between his fingers, then watching them slip entirely into his mouth, threatened to make her faint.

She lifted her legs as he pulled her trousers off, and then he covered her exposed thighs with his warm body. His breath was unsteady as he slipped his arms under her legsand dragged her closer.

“You taste like _magic_ ,” he whispered to her as he slid one hand under the hem of her tunic and across the flat skin of her belly. She arced into his touch and swore to herself that she would follow this man until the world ended. Her _soul_ ached for him, more than he could possibly know.

Link finally brought his other hand back between them, and she gasped involuntarily when they entered her again. This time, instead of his thumb doing the work of bringing her to climax, it was his tongue.

This was even better than her dream.

She felt white-hot, like an iron in the forge, but electrified and delirious. She brought her knees up reflexively, and he chuckled against her skin. “I’m glad you like this,” he told her briefly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Zelda reached down to touch herself, to feel where his fingers entered her. “Liar,” she said softly, and she held herself apart for him to return to what he was doing.

She marveled at the tickle of his hair against her hand, even the flutter of his eyelashes and the puff of his breath through his nose as he sucked on her clit and swept his tongue over it with increasing rhythm. His fingers moved in time, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her whenever her muscles clenched, only to slip free once more to give her blessed friction.

Her own nails bit in to her skin when she came the first time, but Link did not let her come down from it. He continued to pleasure her with his tongue, and shock wave after shock wave rocked her body until sounds escaped her that she did not know she could produce. She _mewled_ with her climax, and Link finally pulled away from her just enough that he had room to kiss her.

Zelda’s hands flew to his hair. She needed her knight closer to her, needed him to know how much she adored him, how much a piece of her soul he was. He tasted strange—which must have been the taste of her—but she loved it. She needed _more_.

He never stopped pumping his fingers into her, and her hips rocked with every motion until she came a second time. Her moan was lost in his mouth, and he cradled her back with his other hand as she arched up to meet him.

“Stop, please,” she begged, though she absolutely regretted it when he immediately obeyed.

Link’s eyes sparkled as he took her in. Her chest heaved, a shivers still occasionally rolled down the length of her body. She pulled him close and pressed their sweaty foreheads together. “I want more,” she promised him. “I do. I do, Link. But—you didn’t finish, and I haven’t taken an elixir, and—”

His kiss was so light and quick, it was as though a fairy had alighted on her lips. “It’s fine, princess,” he whispered huskily. “We have all the time in the world."


	18. In the Belly of the Beast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda, B+Y Combo 4!

They were just cleaning up and getting dressed once more when the wind shifted. Link began to laugh, but Zelda did not know what for. She walked to the edge of the cliff, Link’s blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and looked for the source of the chill in the air.

When the dragon burst from the waters, it was followed by familiar hymns to the Goddess of Wisdom. Zelda felt them, rather than heard them, in her soul. She stood in awe as Naydra made its way through the Promenade. Its body rippled with Divine Light, and it moved through the air in an undulating fashion, like ocean waves.

She had never before been blessed with the vision of the Blue Guardian of Nayru. It now turned a mighty eye to her and blinked it slowly.

Zelda laughed as Link approached her from behind. “Patron Guardian of Virgins,” she said to him over her shoulder.

He slid his arms around her waist and knotted his fingers together at her hip. “What does that mean?”

His princess leaned back into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. The dragon continued to claw its way slowly through the air. “I think she’s blessing the union,” Zelda said. “Is this why you wanted us to practice here?”

Link hummed. “Naydra comes down the Promenade and then around through the bay every morning at dawn. But I thought we’d camp here, have a fire… _actually_ sleep…and then see a dragon for good luck.”

“Ah, yes, sleep. A vital physiological need. Sounds nice.”

They returned to Hateno and slept through the day.

 

“It’ll be cold until we get inside,” Link said. “You memorized the drawings and all the escape routes, but please just use the Slate if you need to. Any Travel Gate will be safer than in that place. I can fight my way out, but I need you to promise to get out so I don’t have to worry about the two of us.”

Zelda covered Link’s gloved hand with her own. “I promise.”

He still looked very troubled, but he did not seem to know what he could say to convince her to abandon this Goddess-given endeavor. She wasn’t particularly keen on this one, either. The idea of venturing into the home base of an entire tribe of people sworn to murder her and her lover in the most painful ways possible was not an appealing one.

They had stopped briefly in Gerudo Town to inform Riju of their plan. She had offered to send her guardswomen to Karusa with them for backup, but Link declined. It wouldn’t help the if they were already dead, and storming the hideout was a good way to get killed.

So there they were, standing on the Travel Gate of the Shrine in front of Gerudo Town, changing into their stealth armor and preparing for the worst.

“We’ll both take elixirs before we enter.” Link sighed. “Ready?”

They headed to the Gerudo Tower and glided down from there. Link could see that the front door to the hideout had been blocked off with boulders, but he preferred the idea of entering through the back.

He was surprised to find that there were others there—not Yiga, but treasure hunters.

“Mils? Mina?”

The two Hylian travelers raised fingers to their lips in unison. “Shh!”

“What are you doing here?” Link asked them, whispering as requested.

“I hear the Yiga clan were taken out by a traveling swordsman. And yet…” Mils looked over his shoulder at the secret door to the Yiga hideout; it remained cracked open just as Link had left it. “There are still an awful lot of ‘em around. They seem to be hoarding bananas too.”

“Oh no,” Link said blithely.

“It sounds like they’re still up to no good,” Zelda suggested. She cracked her knuckles nervously, but with her face obscured, Mils and Mina seemed to take it as a taunt.

“Are you looking for treasure too?” Mina demanded. “It’s ours! The Yiga took one of the Gerudo tribe’s treasures in there, but that sacred orb is _ours!_ We were here first!”

“Mina—” began Mils.

“Let’s go,” Link muttered to Zelda, and they entered the hideout to the utter shock of the onlookers.

The storeroom was filled with bananas just as Link had described it. He picked up a nearby duplex bow for Zelda while he listened for any sound of approaching clansmen. When he figured it was probably safe, they crept forward to the gateway into the main hall. Blademasters were everywhere, clearly on high alert for—most likely—them.

Link gestured for Zelda to hug the wall immediately to their left, and when no Blademasters were looking, he urged her to climb up into the hidden nook he had found the first time he came to the hideout. When he was certain she was inside, he followed.

His heart was racing unlike any other time in his life. Even facing the Calamity had been less terrifying than being in the belly of the Yiga Clan’s hideout with the woman they had sworn to destroy. He thought he might collapse from nerves already.

He spoke in her ear, barely a whisper. “I’m going to use Ancient arrows on a few of them. Stay here.”

“That’s terrible,” she replied in a voice that was indistinguishable from a breath.

He shrugged apologetically and climbed back up into the main hideout.

He had a route planned out—several, in fact. The best one would require them sneaking out through the rafters, then gliding down through the door on the other side of the room when no one was looking. That was the easy part; he could see no guards in the room with the Yiga’s stockpile of bananas and the stolen Sheikah… _Gerudo_ orb. But coming back with the orb would be a challenge. Fortunately, there were two of them, so one could roll the orb and the other could make sure the coast was clear ahead of them.

The problem was, as Link timed the guards’ route, he could find no way to get from door to door without being seen by at least one of them.  
Hence the Ancient, obliterating arrow.

He had just activated one and raised it to aim when he felt the growing presence of a Yiga foot soldier behind him. He whirled around to unleash the arrow on this guy, but the Yiga anticipated it. With a forceful shove that Link had not expected, his bow and arrow went clattering back down into the secret room where Zelda hid. The Yiga lunged at Link, and the two tumbled down into the room as well.

Link’s mind was in five different places at once as he kicked the Yiga off of him. Had they been heard? Would their hiding spot soon be filled with Blademasters? Where was Zelda—

Just _what_ was this assassin trying to do? Fuck him?

The Yiga had dropped his own weapon and they proceeded to grapple on the floor like roughhousing children. Link swung his fist wildly at the Yiga’s face and popped its mask right off.

 _“What?”_ Link fell limp against the floor under the weight of his shock. His heart couldn’t take this much stress and surprise for much longer.

Blood streaked Granté’s face from where his mask had scraped his cheek when Link punched it. He did not smile. “Shit is about to go down, Link,” he whispered. “Paya and I are trying to get more information. You need to not be here.”

 _“What?”_ Zelda stood above them, aghast. “We need to complete the trial!”

Granté stepped off of Link and collected his mask. “Paya is at the clan meeting right now with Ka’loh,” he said. “It’ll be done in five minutes and then this place is going to be crawling with footsoldiers again. You need to get out _now._ ”

Zelda crossed her arms. Her eyes flashed with a scarlet gleam in the murk; Link noted it with concern, but there was no time to question it. “Then that’s five minutes to complete our task,” she hissed behind her stealth scarf. “Plenty of time. Come on, Link.”

Link gave Granté an apologetic look. “We’ll be quick.”

He picked up his fallen bow and Ancient arrow and climbed back to the top. With three well-aimed strikes, the room was three Blademasters emptier, without the fourth noticing at all.

He saw Granté’s worried face one more time before the young Sheikah replaced his mask and vanished in a swirl of charm tags.

Link led Zelda across the rafters and through the room unhindered; they found the missing orb and a ton of bananas right where Link had expected. He had her hold it while he led the way, and they rolled it back out into the arena…pit…place they had entered from.

Mina and Miles were only halfway up the canyon, and Zelda could clearly hear Mina’s frustration when they saw the orb in their possession—it truly had only been a few minutes since Link and Zelda had entered the hideout.

They both breathed a sigh of relief as they heard the orb clanging its way down the length of the shaft, then lock into place with a hidden mechanism down below.

The earth began to tremble.

All hell broke loose.

The whole force of the Yiga Clan appeared in a cloud of smoke and red paper and corrupted aura. At least sixty Blademasters, archers, and foot soldiers surrounded the Hero and the Princess; a Blademaster taller than any other stood facing Link and Zelda.

Link immediately drew his Sword. Fi’s length shone like the sun despite the gloom of the day. _It should snow soon,_ Zelda thought, unbidden.

“I took down the Calamity,” Link said to the tall Yiga. “You think you stand a chance?”

There was something in his voice that Zelda had never heard before.

There was the steel that had appeared in it when they were attacked by Yiga on Blatchery Plain just a day after the Calamity fell. That threat, the promise of death, remained. But Zelda recalled how he had spoken one hundred years ago when he pulled her from the smoke and flames and Malice in Castle Town and told her to run—

Link was afraid.

Link, who had once taken down an army of _lynels_.

“Fool!” the Blademaster thundered. “Our dark master speaks to us just as your tarnished goddesses do. Beware, Hero, the eye of the Yiga!”

“Beware the eye of the Yiga!” the clan shouted.

Link dove into battle without a backward glance. The Hylian shield hung off his right arm, and he lead with the Master Sword in his left. He moved like lightning, zig-zagging through the crowd of Yiga too fast to keep track of. Fi’s light left a trail in his wake, and even the light seemed sharp. Yiga fell left and right, but the Blademaster had vanished—and that scared Zelda more than the fifty remaining clansmen.

Zelda’s fingers twitched for the Sheikah Slate, but she did not take it off her hip. Instead, she reached for her sword.

Two of the Yiga clansmen had joined her but kept their backs to her, Demon Carvers drawn and ready to protect her. Zelda knew they must be Granté and Paya, still in disguise, but their presence beside her felt like that of her mother’s old guards: Impa and Link’s mother, Ellia.

Zelda advanced toward the clansmen with her heart in her throat.

_That sword is meant to skewer hearts, and a lot of them._

Just as Link had taught her, then.

 

Link was desperately trying to kill as many Yiga as he could and locate Ka’loh at the same time. He knew that Grante and Paya had to be in the crowd somewhere, and he hoped to the Goddesses above that they stayed out of his way. He could not be discerning with his Sword…not now.

Link summoned Urbosa’s righteous fury in him, and as clansmen dropped to the ground, twitching and writhing and gurgling in their electrocutions, he ended as many of their lives as he could.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” he roared.

“You don’t need to shout. I’m right here.” Ka’loh reappeared before him in a puff of smoke, this time with even _more_ Blademasters behind him.

A dark shape darted past the line of swordsmen, and several of them fell with gushing wounds to their throats.

Zelda landed in a crouch at the far end of the line, her sword smeared red. Her braid whipped behind her; her chest heaved from exertion. But most startling of all, her eyes glowed like rubies in the murk of the afternoon.

“You fools!” Ka’loh bellowed, and this time, he was angry. “You brought us the one thing we desire: _your heads!”_

He swung his Windcleaver at Link, but Link dodged to the side and slipped right out of Time. The world was unfocused, dark, except for his target as he rushed forward with Fi.

Ka’loh parried, unbelievably, and threw Link back into the sand.

Link parried the next swing, even from his prostrate position on the ground. Sparks flew from where the Windcleaver struck the Hylian shield, and Link did not see what happened next, but he heard Zelda’s war cry, and he knew to roll out of the way.

A Windcleaver—Link did not know whose—embedded itself hilt-deep in the round where his head had been a moment before.

When Link jumped to his feet once more, he saw Zelda darting expertly between the tall Blademasters’ legs and swords. She dealt crippling slashes to their thighs and wrists as she went, then kicked out her leg and swept them right off their feet.

Link was shocked. He had never taught her such Sheikah techniques.

He felt the enemy materialize above him a moment too late. The Yiga, whether it was Ka’loh or another, landed heavily on Link’s chest. His skull cracked on the ground, and his vision went black.

 

Zelda heard the deep roar of a Blademaster behind her, followed by a hoarse shout and a sickening crack that she knew _immediately_ was Link’s skull hitting the ground.

She rounded on the scene and found the Blademaster raising his sword to deal a blow that, if Link had not died already, would put him in the grave once more—in pieces.

She was vaguely aware of the dragon that crested the mountain behind her, but she was moving too fast for the world to keep up. Her sword locked with the Blademaster’s and dragged it away from Link. She spun with the Blademaster, forcing him back, back, away from her fallen knight; as she danced, her feet found purchase in thin air.

She felt the hot pump of magic in her chest, in her blood. Beneath her, the golden outline of the Triforce flickered into view; it was made of a searing light that floated above the surface of the sand like the aura of the Travel Medallion, but it was not so passive. Instead, it burned, and it blinded.

Naydra, the silent dragon, let loose a roar above her head.

The Triforce on the ground flared, and then sharp shards of light burst from its center, knocking what remained of the Yiga’s forces high into the sky. Some vanished into puffs of red smoke and talismans; others fell to the earth at the mercy of gravity and death.

Zelda hit the earth heavily with them, dizzy and exhausted.

It was quiet in Karusa Valley.

Snow began to fall.

Grante and Paya stood at a far distance, mouths agape at what they had seen. The glimmering Triforce on the back of her hand had returned, but it faded even as she watched it. She clenched her fist when it disappeared, and she steeled herself for whatever scene she was about to find behind her.

Just as she stood and turned, a heavy, solid mass crashed into her, and she nearly shoved him off of her before she realized that it was Link.

He crushed her to him, his breath coming in gasps. His heart thundered in his chest, loud enough that even she could hear it. He smelled like magic and lightning and…slightly of fish?

Zelda clung to Link with all her remaining strength. Neither of them cared that her nails were biting into his skin, or that his fists were knotted too tightly in her hair.

“What was that?” they asked one another simultaneously.

“Mipha,” Link replied, as though that explained how he was entirely unharmed and possessed an abundance of energy.

“I…don’t know,” Zelda said.

“I don’t want to die every time you need to use your powers. princess.”

Link’s light tone did not please her one bit, but Paya and Granté had reached their sides. “You two are a real battle couple, you know that?” Granté announced. “That was unbelievable. Impossible, even.”

“You must enter the Shrine before the clan returns,” Paya said, ever the voice of reason. “Go in, complete it, and then leave at once. We must head to Kakariko with our information.”

She bowed and vanished.

“What’s going on, Grante?” Link demanded before the Sheikah could disappear like Paya had. “Why were you two here? What did you find out?”

Granté walked with them to the Shrine. Link had to activate it for Zelda, for her arms were too weak to lift the Slate on her own. “Someone stole the heirloom that sat beside Impa’s throne,” Granté said. “It was right under Paya’s nose, so she thought it was someone in the village. We came for information about that.” At Link’s expectant look, the man shook his head. “Nothing on that front.”

“Then what _did_ you find?” Zelda asked. She hoped that all this trouble had been worth it for her friends.

“It’s bad,” Granté said. “I’ll be in Kakariko for a while.”

He vanished. Instead of rupees, he left behind a bundle of Ancient arrows in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts! R&R! All that.


	19. Heroines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small break for our heroes. Please leave a comment! Thanks for the reviews so far :')
> 
> Who do you think the Eighth Heroine is?

Link and Zelda sat on the stairs inside the Kihiro Moh Shrine and took stock of themselves. Link pushed an endura mushroom-and-hearty-radish skewer into her hands and then began to unwind Sheik’s helmet and stealth scarves from her face.

“Mipha gave me the grace that was the source of her healing power,” he said quietly. “It’s passive—not something I can call upon whenever I get hurt, so elixirs still come in handy. But she’s there when I need her most.”

Zelda’s eyes were on the ground as she pushed roasted vegetables into her mouth. She simply could not believe that Mipha, as strong and confident and powerful of a healer as she was, had the power to thwart death. What magic could do such a thing? Not even her own—that of a _goddess_ —could do that.

Could it?

She didn’t want to find out. She agreed with Link: she did not want him to die every time she wanted to use her powers. Or ever again, in fact.

Link had removed her headdress and now wiped a damp cloth across her brow. Perhaps he would not admit it to her, but she new that his nerves were as shot as hers. Zelda suspected he showed his worry and his anxiety and his guilt in the mothering he was doing now. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Which part?” she asked.

Link shrugged unhelpfully and proceeded to change out of his soiled stealth armor. He seemed to have no modesty around her anymore, but she was too exhausted and bitter to gawk at his body anyway. She stared at him, nearly unseeing, as he slipped into his Gerudo clothing again. He shook his hair out from its bun and let it hang loose about his face. “Your eyes turned red,” he said, when it became clear she would not speak without further prompting.

“My eyes did _what?”_

Link held his hands up and shrugged.

Zelda looked down at the back of her hands. “I don’t know what happened. I watched you leap into battle and I… I decided I would stay and fight with you. I know that’s not what I promised, but I knew that it was what I needed to do. What Urbosa would do. What the Goddesses _mean_ for me to do. It will not always be your hand that strikes, or your shield that defends, the Queen of Hyrule, Link. It will be her own.”

She clenched and unclenched her fists, remembering the shuddering impacts of her sword and flesh and bone. “I was doing just as you taught me… I felt so sure of myself. And my body wanted to move, so I trusted myself to move.” Link knelt in front of her, took her blood-splattered gloves off, and laced his warm, dry fingers with hers. “When I heard you fall, and I saw that they were about to behead you, I trusted myself to _be where I needed to be._ Between you and danger. And I was.”

Link’s eyes were dark, like a deep lake. “When you disguised yourself as Sheik, you charmed your eyes to be red,” he said. “She was confident, and canny, and she taught me many things in that life.”

The princess blinked her green eyes slowly. “But I don’t remember any of it,” she said softly.

“But you did remember something,” Link corrected her.

Perhaps he was right.

 

Kihiro Moh had some news for them.

_Now that you have collected three emblems, you must return to Divine Beast Vah Naboris…_

“Absolutely not,” Link proclaimed, and Zelda was more grateful for her knight than ever. She felt much better after the roasted enduring and hearty skewer he had given her, but she was still exhausted. “Where should we go to rest, Zelda?”

“We should inform Riju,” she said.

So they went back to Gerudo Town and sought out the chief. They could not find her, but they stumbled into Buliara entering the throne room.

“Lady Riju heard some news of what happened with the Yiga,” Buliara said. “She is quite distraught. It goes against every instinct I have, but…you should go to her rooms and visit her.”

Link and Zelda hurried to Riju’s rooms and found her kneeling behind her bed at the altar there. Her hands were clasped over her heart as she prayed, whispering Urbosa’s name and—”Mother, please…”

She rose quickly when she heard their footsteps at the entrance to her room. The kohl around her eyes was smudged. “My friends!” She took a quick step toward them, as though to embrace them, but caught herself. “A Hylian traveler who passed through Karusa today said that there was a terrible ambush, and that y-you had fallen…” Her voice was tight with emotion.

Zelda watched in surprise as Link extended his arms for the Gerudo Chief and allowed her to fall into them. He held her tightly, his chin on her hair. “We’re okay, Makeela. Can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Much to Buliara’s dismay, I bet,” Zelda added. She was proud of herself when Riju gave a wet laugh in response, though it was muffled in Link’s chest. “I threw your orb down a bottomless pit, Lady Riju. I must apologize.”

Riju laughed again and drew away from Link in order to take Zelda’s hands in hers. “You fulfilled a Gerudo legend in doing so, so I cannot begrudge you, Princess Zelda. All that matters is that you returned in one piece and have completed the trials of the Gerudo Chiefs. My tribe will always be your ally, as I have sworn.” She took a deep breath. “When you decide to return to your throne and rebuild your kingdom, we will support you. But of course, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

Link nudged her with an elbow. “You just don’t want your combat lessons to end.”

Riju led them to her bed, and the three of them sat down with the sand seals stuffed animals. “What will you do now?” Riju asked, hugging a blue one—the same color as Patricia—to her chest. “Can your Goddesses possibly want more?”

Zelda sighed. “Always. We must return to the Divine Beast, but I do not know why. Perhaps they will finally tell me what they have been giving me, and what to do with it.” She ran her fingers through the tasseled mane of a stuffed sand seal. “Then there’s the matter of the Yiga…”

Riju cocked her head at them curiously. Link and Zelda exchanged a glance. “We’re not sure either. We ran into two of our Sheikah friends who had gone undercover in the Yiga forces, and they said they had found out something very serious. I’m afraid we didn’t have time to find out what that was.”

“Like I said. My tribe will always be your ally. Please do not hesitate to call upon our forces—especially if it means eradicating that cursed clan.”

There was a loud squeal from Link’s corner of the bed, and Zelda whipped around to find him staring at his sand seal in surprise. Apparently there was a noise maker inside its guts, for when he squeezed it again, it made the same obnoxious sound. Riju burst out laughing at his shocked face, and Zelda couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up from her own chest.

 

They washed the blood and sand away and returned to the chamber they had shared for the past several weeks. Zelda fell into bed and could have fallen asleep immediately, but she struggled against her heavy eyelids for as long as she could while Link undressed. Her consciousness was beginning to slip away by the time he rolled into bed beside her, and she was hardly aware of it when he pulled her back against his chest, sheltering her body with his own and hiding them completely under the covers.

All she knew was that now, the only place she felt safe was in his arms.

 

Zelda woke up sluggishly and in a fragile mood.

Link had rolled away from her at some point in the night, and she hated nothing in the world like she hated the absence of his warmth around her. She curled in on herself, tugged the blankets closer around her, and squeezed her eyes shut. She could not remember any of her dreams, if she had had any, but that only further soured her mood. Her eyes had been _red_ , she had executed Sheikah combat techniques, and yet she could not remember being Sheik or any Zelda of the past.

When would they return to her? What would she need to do? If the Goddesses’ quest was not enough, if the trials were not the secret, then what was?

Her eyes burned with frustrated tears.

Link had given her permission not to remember, but she had _heard_ his agony, his ancient sorrow, on Blatchery Plain when he told her how cruel it was that his Goddess never remembered him in any of their shared lives. He had chosen to follow her until the end of time, in a never-ending battle that so often ended in his own death. And this time, she remembered one of those falls—recalled it so vividly she could cry for that loss anew.

He deserved to be with someone who loved him, wholly and completely, from beginning to end.

 

Neither of them really felt ready for what the Goddesses had in store for them at Naboris, so Link suggested they “take a day off” and check out something that had always intrigued him.

“It’s not a vacation,” he said in offended tones when she accused him of suggesting exactly that. “It’s a _scholarly endeavor,_ I promise.”

He took her to the Wasteland Tower, adjacent to Naboris’ ongoing vigil on Spectacle Rock. A vicious wind howled around them at this altitude.

“The wind is only around the Tower,” he said, shouting a little to be heard. “It forces you to approach it through the bog. But we’re going down there, so it should actually push us where we need to go.”

He pointed, and Zelda suddenly knew where they were headed.

“Link, Riju told me about this place!” She whipped out her paraglider and readied herself for the long glide. The weight that had been on her shoulders and in her heart that morning began to dissipate as her mind tackled the puzzle of the Seven Heroines, even at a distance.

Link beamed at her. What a coincidence.

They floated down and landed on a Heroine covered in scaffolding. With the Slate’s camera, Zelda began to take observations and make notes, while Link wandered down to the statue’s crossed hands to look at the orb that rested atop them.

“Hey, this is metal,” he called.

Zelda whirled around, Magnesis ready, and she saw that not only was the orb in front of Link made of metal—there were six more metal orbs scattered in the sand far, far below them.

She could have danced out of excitement. The mystery was only getting more intriguing.

When she joined Link at the orb, she found that it bore a strange symbol like the form of punctuation called a colon. It struck her that she had just taken a photograph of a similar symbol on the headdress of one of the heroines across the canyon from them.

Her eyes drifted back down to the orbs below, and to the strange pits that were half-buried in the stand.

“Riju told me a riddle. _‘Restore the power of the Heroines; let the Hero in.’_ I think the power that needs to be restored is contained in each of these orbs, and they correspond to a specific statue.” Zelda nodded to herself. “That must be it. Once the orbs are in the proper mechanisms, a Shrine will surely reveal itself!”

Link jumped off the Heroine’s hands and opened his glider just before he hit the ground to stop his fall. Zelda was not quite so sure of herself and preferred to glide all the way down, but soon they were running around finding the crest hidden on each statue and placing the proper orb in its slot.

But the ground did not shake, and no Shrine appeared.

They triple-checked their alignment and tried to translate some of the ancient Gerudo text inscribed in the sandstone of each pit, but nothing indicated where they had gone wrong or what they had missed.

Zelda sat down in the sand and took out the Gerudo archaeological studies that Riju had lent her. “There has to be something else. Perhaps there’s a power _source_ that must be turned on. Or a time of day that we missed or have not yet reached…”

Link flopped down beside her. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t need the normal Shrines anymore.”

“They should still appear, at least,” Zelda protested. “The Towers are supplying them power, and…”

She lost her voice, for she had stumbled across a passage that she had missed upon first reading. She had mistaken it as a simple diary entry, rather than a work-related note, for it began with several complaints about the Yiga.

“Link,” she said, excitement growing in her chest. “Were there statues like this in the Yiga hideout?” He sat up quickly, and the look on his face was enough to answer her. “How many?”

He wracked his brain for the memory of walking into the hideout’s front entrance for the first time. “Eight?”

Zelda slammed the book into the sand and stared at him. _“Are you certain?”_

Link thought again, then nodded.

She cackled with delight. “There are _eight heroines, Link!_ Not seven! We must find her and restore her power as well!”

Link leaned over to kiss her, but she was grinning too widely for it to be a good one. He didn’t mind; he was too happy that he had lifted her out of the doldrums.

“I can’t wait to tell Riju,” Zelda said fervently. “This researcher dismissed the eighth heroine as a heresy, a Yiga corruption to the Gerudo myth. But what if it’s the other way around? What if that was originally a Gerudo fortress or outpost, and in the ten thousand years since then, the true myth was distorted or forgotten? She _must_ know!”

“Then let’s go tell her.”

Link wrapped her in his arms and brought them back to Gerudo Town.

Riju was _almost_ as excited as Zelda was at the revelation, if by almost one meant mildly amused.

“There is a silly, ugly voe who has been running laps around Gerudo Town, obnoxiously hitting on any vai who crosses his path,” she said. Zelda blinked at her, not following where the chief was going. “He thinks that Gerudo will love his sand boots…but he boasts that he is a scholar of Gerudo lore.” Riju crossed her legs on her throne and nodded at Link. “I think you should inquire with him, Link, and see if he has valuable information for us—either about the missing Heroine, or about how to be _rid_ of his foolish ass.”

Buliara gave a bellowing laugh. “You _are_ a pretty vai,” she admitted.

Zelda giggled. “I do want to see this. I mean, hear this.” She covered her mouth to hide her amused smile from Link. The expression on her knight’s face wasn’t wholly offended.

“Alright, ladies.” Link tossed his hair. “I defeated a Calamity. I can deal with a random loser.”

Zelda followed him to the front gate of Gerudo Town, where they chatted with the guards and waited for their target to come into view. They learned from the guards that he was on his _one hundredth_ lap (they were placing bets on when he would collapse).

“Nice boots!” Link called, just as the bespectacled traveler ran around the corner by the Shrine.

The guards stared at Link. “You’re not really going to speak to him, Linny, are you?”

Zelda’s eyebrows took off for the moon. Was _that_ what Link went by as a vai in Gerudo Town? She would never let him live it down.

The man stumbled as Link stepped away from the guards and Zelda. It was hilarious to the princess because Link changed nothing about the way he walked or the voice he spoke with, and yet—

“Sa-sa-sa…sav’aaq!”

And _yet_.

“So yeah, hey, the name’s Bozai. I’m thirty-five, single, and I LOVE jogging. Especially on the sand.”

“I can tell,” Link said in a wry tone. His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops. Nothing about his body language, even, signaled to this man that he was interested.

“Yeah, everyone says I’m tenacious as a tick! And I think some of them meant it in a nice way, too!”

The guards on either side of Zelda guffawed quietly. “I said that,” the one on her left noted proudly. “I did not mean it in a nice way.”

“S-so…you out here on your own? Pretty rough and tumble place… Wanna hang out with me a while?”

“You know,” Link said, “I really just want to know your secret.”

“My secret?” Bozai stared at him blankly for a moment, then brightened up. “You mean the secret to my sand jogging?”

Link nodded once.

“Yeah, it’s my sand boots!” Bozai hopped from one foot to the other so Link could admire them. “They allow me to traverse the desert without being slowed down at all, so jogging is a breeze. If you’d like to check them out, we could grab a quiet corner and—”

“Gimme those boots.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. She wished she could go up there and tell him to stick to the plan! Of course Link would prioritize new gear over solving her mystery…

“Well…here’s the thing. These sand boots are super rare, and I’d happily give them to you, but the person who made them passed away and there’s no way to get another pair…but…”

Bozai ran a hand across his face and seemed to say something that the onlookers could not hear. Link’s eyes strayed back to Zelda’s, and he stared at her, unblinkingly, as though to say, _I make this look easy, but it’s torture._

“I mean, sure! I’d LOVE to give them to you, you hungry little boot monster!”

Zelda had to cover her mouth to smother the cackles that erupted from her when Link’s new nickname registered in his ears. His eyes widened comically, then narrowed with murderous intent.

Link did not immediately kill Bozai, which was fortunate, because he was finally getting to the point.

“But first, a favor! Ever hear the legend of the eighth heroine?”

“Eighth heroine?” Link asked.

“Everyone’s heard the legend in the Gerudo region about the seven heroines, but…some tell of an eighth heroine… Wiped clean from history, and no one knows why or how… A phantom heroine known to all but seen by none… I’ve been taken with the legend since I was a child.” Bozai leaned forward, and Link took a step back. “Find her! Show me the eighth heroine, and I’ll give you these sand boots! What do you say?”

“Sure,” Link said dolefully.

“YESSS!” Bozai cleared his throat. “According to those who idolize the eighth heroine, she is enshrined somewhere in the Gerudo Highlands. Apparently they even have a nickname for her: the Bronze Giant. Catchy. Beyond that I really don’t know much…but a treasure hunter once told me a Gerudo named Patricia might know more about the legend!”

Link nodded and began to walk away, but Bozai grabbed for his shoulder. He was lucky that Link merely executed a fluid dodge rather than liberate Bozai’s wrist from his arm.

“Here! If you’d like, you can use my snow boots! I’m sure they’ll come in handy. Besides, you seem really into boots.”

Bozai knelt down to rummage through his pack and pulled out a pair of boots. Link did not wait for him to hand them to him but rather snatched them from Bozai’s hands and walked back to Zelda without sparing the poor man a backward glance.

“Amused?” he asked the guards and Zelda.

“Very!” they chorused.

“Well, let’s go talk to a sand seal, I guess,” Link said, and led Zelda back to the palace, snow boots dragging on the ground from his hand.


	20. Tread the Realm of Memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I highly encourage you to read "When the Wind Whispers" if you haven't already.

“‘Risoka Snowfield rests upon the shoulders of the eighth Heroine…’ Patricia, I’m surprised at you. No pun?” Riju gave her sand seal a pet and turned to Link and Zelda. “You have an enchanted map, yes?”

They opened the Sheikah Slate, and Zelda immediately notice something strange. “The whole _range_ of the Gerudo Highlands looks like the top of one of those statues,” she noted.

They zoomed in on the ‘shoulder’ of the ‘statue,’ but Link didn’t think anything could be there. “Meadela’s Mantle is not the Risoka Snowfield,” he pointed out. “There’s a lynel in Risoka Snowfield. Very different.”

“What’s this?” Riju asked.

She had discovered a small divot in the mountains, where a small protrusion could be seen. When they zoomed in even more, Zelda gasped. “That’s it! There she is! Those are her crossed arms… What is she doing so far away?”

“Perhaps she is unfinished,” Riju suggested.

“But why would they carve her there? How would they transport…well, I suppose that, over ten thousand years ago, they had the technology to build the Divine Beasts. It is certainly much smaller than one of _those.”_ Zelda crossed her arms. “Well, we should go and get a photo for poor Bozai so he can finally leave Gerudo Town.”

“You mean, so I can get my sand boots,” Link said. He also had his arms crossed. “He’s not going to leave until I tell him to scram, and that’s not happening until I get those boots.” When Zelda opened her mouth to rebuke him, he lowered his chin obstinately. “I spend more time criss-crossing this desert than I do exploring Tabantha _and_ the Highlands. Snow boots are no use to me.”

“Such a shame I can’t simply have him arrested,” sighed Riju. “I should build a voe-only jail outside of town. Actually, that’s a good idea. Buliara!” She nodded at Link and Zelda. “Excuse me.”

“Wait, Riju.” Link stepped in front of the Gerudo Chieftain to halt her. “Traipsing the Highlands will take days that we do not have. We shouldn’t put the monks off for much longer.” He met Zelda’s gaze, and she nodded with a bit of trepidation. She knew he was right. “We’ll be headed for the Divine Beast soon.”

Riju’s shoulders straightened. “Ah, yes.” She turned to Zelda. “I refuse to say goodbye. You must return here, alive, to hear that word come from my lips. Until then…” She approached Zelda and wrapped her in an embrace that was stronger than her thin frame would have led Zelda to believe. “Vasaaq, friends.”

 

Link and Zelda stood on Spectacle Rock and looked up at Naboris just as the sun began its afternoon race to the horizon. They had each changed into their best armor, just in case, and Zelda’s armor gleamed like starfire in the light of the sun.

Hand-in-hand, they approached the Divine Beast.

_To the one who approaches this Divine Beast…with fear in your heart: in exchange for Naboris’s Emblems you will be granted the chance to tread through the realm of memories._

_Those who lack determination will find this trial unforgiving. Do not take this place lightly, nor dismiss it as merely a world within your mind._

_The truth is much deeper than you know…_

The presence of the Goddesses did not fade, but they did not immediately act. In the moment they had, Link and Zelda looked at each other in concern. “I guess they’re talking to me, then,” he murmured.

“If they’re being literal, then you will be physically present but not mentally. I’ll…stand watch over you.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

He kissed her gently, then took one step closer to the Divine Beast.

“I’m ready.”

He folded himself into a meditative position, legs crossed and hands at rest in his lap. Zelda knelt a few feet away and observed the change that swept over his face. His eyes grew glassy, then fell closed, and a shudder passed through him. Then, he took a deep breath, and on the exhale, Zelda sensed his trial had begun.

She waited a moment or two to see if the Goddesses would speak to her, but when no directive came, she sighed and drew her sword to hold in her lap during her vigil.

“You have overcome all of the Divine Trials of Naboris’s pilot, little bird…but my end was not orchestrated by the Goddesses, so it is not yours to suffer through.”

Zelda leaped to her feet, and her sword clattered to the ground—but Link remained undisturbed in his trance. Urbosa had appeared soundlessly behind Zelda, and by all rights she was living and breathing…hardly the ghost Link had described. Zelda flung herself at Urbosa and found her solid and warm just as she had been in life. Zelda refused to cry, for she knew that her time with Urbosa must be limited, and there was too much to say, too many things she wanted to hear.

“What’s happening to him?”

Urbosa hummed deep in her throat. “I know your Hero seems calm and collected, princess, but fear dwells within him. He faces it now, in the form of the Scourge of Vah Naboris.”

Zelda looked up at Urbosa with wide eyes. Link had mentioned that the Thunderblight had been the worst of all his battles with the Scourges—he had nearly died.

“Don’t worry,” Urbosa chided. “He has my Fury, Revali’s Gale, Daruk’s Protection, and Mipha’s Grace with him now. He just needs to remember that.” Urbosa ran her hand lovingly through Link’s hair. “I wish your mothers could see you now. You have become all they could have hoped for, and more.”

The Gerudo Champion and the Princess of Hyrule sat in the sun a few feet away from Link. “Urbosa, I had no idea that you had gone through all of these trials. And the other Champions, too. Why did no one tell me?”

“Why did Link never speak of his hardships?” Urbosa raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as anyone why we hide our troubles from those we care about, little bird.”

“I knew about the Molduga,” Zelda admitted. “My mother told me that story, but she didn’t say why you had encountered such a beast in the first place.”

“Your mother was a sickly child, and her parents send her to Gerudo Town in the hope that the sun and the sweet waters and dry air would help her wet lungs. That was how we met, and came to be close.” Urbosa turned her head to the desert, her eyes on the distant Gerudo Town. “I was preparing to become Chieftain, and I knew that I would face the molduga—but I also knew of a Gerudo folk remedy that could cure any illness but death.” Urbosa stared off toward the East Barrens. “So I killed the molduga and used its fins to make your mother well again. She nearly refused it, for she knew it would mean her time in Gerudo Town would soon come to an end…but we both had our duties.”

Zelda felt her eyes water despite her resolution not to cry. “You loved her,” she said softly.

“Dearly,” Urbosa admitted with ease. “In another life, perhaps you would have been my daughter. I did my best to pretend that it had been so.”

A few tears spilled through the gate of Zelda’s lashes. “I often wished that, too…”

Urbosa put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to her breast. No heart beat within it, but her warmth was as it had always been: all-encompassing, comforting, certain.

“I am so proud of you, little bird. Not only for your fight against the Calamity but for how you’ve grown in just a few weeks.” The Champion tucked a strand of Zelda’s hair back away from her face with tender care. “In calling you ‘little bird,’ your mother hoped you would one day be free to soar, as you are now. You have found a faith in your own strength and your body that rivals the Gerudo. I only wish I had been the one to lead you to it.”

“But you _did,”_ Zelda said firmly.

Urbosa smiled. “Then I hope the other Champions will teach you things that are just as important.”

Link gasped, but he did not wake. Zelda sat up to take stock of him and found a gruesome burn blossoming across his face, neck, and into his tunic. The Gerudo Champion shook her head, but did not comment, and a moment later the burn faded back to unmarked skin.

“You never knew the extent to which I loved him, too,” she murmured. “It fills my soul with joy to know that you finally see in one another what I have always seen.”

Zelda swallowed thickly. “He sees so much _more,”_ she said sadly. “He always has. I witnessed his sacrifice, and I know his honor and loyalty...and I want to repay all of that with the full knowledge of who he _is_ , Urbosa.” She stood, though she was loathe to be apart from her dear friend. Urbosa followed, and they walked to the edge of the cliff to look out at Hyrule. A strong wind had come up from the desert and pushed them, it seemed, back to the kingdom. “There are so many things I must do, but this is the one thing I want to do…and I don’t know how.”

“Princess, don’t _make up_ failures to justify your guilt.” Despite her stern words, the look on Urbosa’s face was somber and soft. “One cannot hope to control the shifting sands of the desert or the tides of the ocean, and the complexities of time and destiny are likewise outside our control. Don’t presume to know where their flow will take you, but trust that they have a destination in mind.”

Zelda mouthed Urbosa’s words to herself thoughtfully. She wished, again, that she had her diary to jot them down, but for now she would commit them to memory. She would commit every word to memory, for she had a feeling this would be her last chance to speak with Urbosa in this life.

Her head turned back to where Link sat. “How long…?”

“He has gained the upper hand,” Urbosa said. “Not long. I am content to sit here with you, little bird, but you know that I will always watch over you—just as your mother does.”

“Can you tell me about him, in the time we have left?” Zelda asked. “So that I can tell him the things he has forgotten.”

 

Link knew, before he even opened his eyes, that the Goddesses had dressed him in he armor of the Desert Voe. On his back, he felt the familiar shape of the Scimitar of the Seven, and he guessed that his circular shield was Urbosa’s as well: Daybreaker. He quickly took stock of himself and could feel the crackle of Urbosa’s Fury in him, which meant the other blessings had also stayed with him.

He opened his eyes and found himself in the bowels of Vah Naboris. The console glowed blue, but its pedestal had not yet been activated.

On the keening desert wind, the Goddesses gave him his Trial:

_This illusory realm was created from the depths of your memories… The enemy you shall face is a product of the fear that dwells within. This battle is a trial of the soul. You must emerge victorious using only the tools provided._

Link’s mouth was dry. He and Zelda had reenacted the trials Urbosa overcame to pilot Vah Naboris, and now, he would face the Scourge that had brought the Gerudo Champion to a warrior’s end. He desperately hoped that Zelda’s final trial, whatever it turned out to be, was more forgiving.

He did not have to activate the console, because, ready or not, the Scourge had begun to materialize behind him.

He whirled around to face it, and its deafening screams pierced his ears just as it had the first time Link faced it.

Link raised his shield just as he saw the first _swish_ of the Scourge’s hair; the next moment, the Scourge had vanished.

Daruk’s Protection swelled in him as the first blow fell, and Link threw himself backward, legs over head and out of time, to avoid the blow that followed. The green streak of the blight’s electrified battle axe left a trail of crackling electricity in its wake, and Link avoided it nimbly as he came in for his own attack.

When the blight fell away, Link took the time to switch the Slate to Magnesis, just to be ready for the eventual rain of metal spikes that would come. He had fallen to that trick once, and he would be ready this time.

Link wondered when the Goddesses would be satisfied with him. He thought he was their Champion, that he had proved his worth to them. He proved his strength to Din. He had shown his penitence to Nayru and compassion for her Guardian. He had faced his doubts, rejected cowardice, and cast out the Darkness from his unbreakable soul, to win Farore’s favor.

Farore, Mother of Courage, said that he had done _well_.

She had promised that if rest was hers to give, he would have it.

But wasn’t this quest, this trial, entirely at her will?

The blight drew itself up and threw balls of electricity at him, which he dodged, and he raised his shield again. This time, the blight did not strike twice but three times, and Link had not been prepared. Daruk’s Protection dulled the axe but could do nothing to stop the momentum of the swing, and Link was sent flying to the side.

 _Focus_ , Link told himself.

He _broke_ the scimitar against the Thunderblight in the midst of another flurry. , but a light, two-handed weapon materialized on his back. He recognized it as an Edge of Duality, and he was thankful for it. He could end this much more swiftly with a two-handed weapon and Urbosa’s Fury.

The blight had summoned the metallic inner workings of Naboris and rained them down on Link just as it had done in their first battle. Link used Magnesis to give it a taste of its own medicine, but it fell to the ground on the far side of Naboris, and Link reached it just as it was beginning to pi;ck itself up. It screamed at him, slashed its battle axe in Link’s face, and fled to the far corner of Naboris to recuperate.

Link fell, screaming. The axe had not broken his skin with its edge but _seared_ it; he could feel the blisters rise under his fingers, from above his eye all the way down to his navel. Fi had warned him about leaving himself so exposed in the Desert Voe armor—

He felt Mipha’s touch on his face, and her magic cooled his burns like healing waters. He blinked away his tears of pain, but he did not see her in front of him, though he knew her touch.

He ground his teeth and rose from his knees.

After the next rain of lightning and the taste of Link’s sword, the Thunderblight locked on to Link with its blue Guardian eye. Link had no bow, no arrows to halt the charge of the laser, so he raised his shield and prayed. Daruk’s Protection was exhausted, and so was Link, but there was no room to fail.

His focus was unbreakable, and he felt in his soul the exact moment the laser was ready. His arm tensed, and then Link parried the beam  _right back at the Scourge._ Even as the blight fell, Link ran for it with Stasis at the ready. While it was locked in the bonds of time, Link slipped free of them and unleashed a unending barrage of steel on the blight.

Stasis broke, and the blight lost its aura and writhed as it was destroyed from the inside out.

But unlike the last time, there was no Malice to crash over Link, choke him. The Demon had been banished, and this was but an illusion.

Naboris stood still, a monument in the wastelands. The desert wind swept through its hollow shell and brought with it not only the voice of the Goddesses, but their forms as well,

They presented themselves to Link as Sheikah Elders just as they had at their Springs, and in the Sword Trials. Din stood with her mighty staff, face obscured by her hood. Her long white hair had been split into two plaits that hung down her chest, rubies tied to their ends. Nayru, tall and thin, contemplated Link with blue eyes like her dragon, but the rest of her face was obscured by her hair, dusted with snow.

Farore, withered and bent like Impa, was the only one whose face he could truly see. Her green eyes were as bright as the lightning that followed Farosh, and they were pinned on Link.

“Champion of the Three,” they intoned, “approach us.”

As Link drew closer to the Ancient Goddesses, the blue symbol of the Sheikah appeared beneath their feet. Each Goddess stood on one of the triangular eyelashes of the tearing eye, and Link came to stand in the center of its pupil before them.

Link, as ancient as he knew his soul to be, as old as he felt sometimes, felt small and young before his creators. But he felt no fear, and he held no bitterness toward them in his heart.

Nayru, who had never spoken to him, spread her hands out toward him in consideration. “Courageous One, you have done well. You vanquished the Darkness with the Light of your unbreakable soul. You have guided our most loyal daughter out of Despair. You are her protector, guardian, and guide through Time, and you have earned our favor.”

“For overcoming this trial, you shall wield the blessing of Urbosa’s Fury with far greater Power than before.” Din tapped the butt of her staff on the ground, and blue light rippled toward Link. When it reached his feet, it sparked green.

“And for your dedication and faith, you will be granted the deepest desire of your heart.” Farore smiled at him gently. “First Child…she will call you ‘Dear One’ once again.”


	21. Good Will and Faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, by my estimates there's at least 150 hits/update lately. That's crazy! Love all of you. Thank you for the kind words. Please leave more, and give me theories and dreams and favorite LoZ things and whatnot. Love hearing from you. :)

Link’s hearing came back to him before any other sense did, and that was how he knew Kass had appeared.

_“Recall Naboris’s Champion of sand,_  
_before she was lost to the land._  
_Chief Urbosa's heart was strong,_  
_So the princess came along…”_

He opened his eyes and looked around to find Zelda sitting at Kass’s feet not too far away, their backs to him and eyes on the Divine Beast. Kass’s accordion paused when he heard Link’s footsteps.

“Oh? My, my.”

“Link!” Zelda jumped up. “You’ve succeeded, then?” He nodded, and she beamed at him. “Of course you did.”

Link pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes briefly. The words of his Goddesses rang in his heart, and he could have screamed them across the whole kingdom for the joy that they gave him. He knew that he must not. “Nice to see you, Kass. How’s your song?”

“Ah! Wandering around here and listening to anecdotes about Champion Urbosa has truly invigorated me. In fact, it has inspired me to honor her in my own way, separate from my teacher’s unfinished song. That is why I felt inclined to roost here, near the Divine Beast Vah Naboris, which Urbosa herself mastered.” He nodded at Zelda. “I saw a beacon of light upon my approach and I knew it would be our princess. I have kept her company during your vigil and played her my composition.”

“I love it, Kass,” she assured him. “You really have done your research.”

“By writing a song that honors the fierce heart of Champion Urbosa, I feel closer than ever to my dear teacher.” Kass looked out across Hyrule, at the other Divine Beasts. “Perhaps once I have written about every Champion, I will return home for a while.”

 _Children_ , the Goddesses called. _Return to the monument from which you received your Trials._

Even Kass seemed to notice a change in the air, if he did not hear the voice of the Goddesses itself. Kass bowed his head to the Hero and the Princess. “I sense that you must go. May the light illuminate your paths.”

Link and Zelda glided back to the Mesa on which he monument still stood. The dais in its center pulsed with amber light.

_Goddess-Blood Princess, step forward._

Zelda nervously approached the monument. She could feel a pull, like the pull of the Slate for traveling through the aura. It tugged at something deep within her chest… She stepped onto the platform and felt that tug become a drag, and then a flow, from her chest down to her fingertips. Light began to drip from them, and she gazed down at her hands in wonder.

_Daughter of the Three, you have done well to meet the Trials laid before you. Through no divine intervention, you have increased your strength and gained the confidence of a warrior. Courage grows in your heart._

_Find the one who walks with confidence and carries strength like your own…for the Divine Beast needs a pilot once more._

As the Goddesses vanished, the light in Zelda’s palms began to coalesce. She felt the shape of it: ridges, stone, and amber inlays.

The helm of Vah Naboris’s pilot rested in her hands. Its neck was articulated like the Divine Beast’s, and it bore similar vertebral spikes. The eyes set on the face of the helm glowed blue, and as Zelda peered underneath, she found that the whole front of it was translucent from the inside.

Link approached slowly. “So they require new Champions."

Zelda blinked across at him. “I suppose so. But the threat of the Calamity is gone…”

Her knight took the helm from her and examined it closely. For a moment, he was silent. Then he handed it back to her and looked out at Hyrule. “You’ll need close allies to restore your government. Returning control of each Divine Beast to its people would be a gesture of good will and faith. And good will and faith will get you far.”

“So, Riju, then.” Zelda laughed. “Buliara will never allow it. Perhaps this _is_ a Trial.”

 

They returned to Gerudo town and found Riju in the throne room. Zelda approached the Gerudo Chief with Naboris’s helm extended in offering. Link stood behind her, a supportive figure with a smile in his eyes.

“Lady Riju,” she said warmly, “I want to thank you for your hospitality and your friendship. Vah Naboris has not only been calmed…it now stands to protect the Gerudo people. I return it now to you, for I have come to admire your steadfast confidence and the grace with which you lead your people. May you always be our ally.”

Link and Zelda had discussed exactly what she would say to the young Gerudo Chief. Though her words were heartfelt—she truly did admire Riju’s swagger and confidence—Link had said that the emphasis on her ability to lead would come as a much-needed bolster to Riju’s self image. “She might seem cool as a chuchu,” he said, “but she’s still only twelve.”

Lady Riju stared at Zelda, her gaze inscrutable. “Princess of Hyrule, you do me great honor,” she said after a moment. “Though I do not know what this exactly entails.”

“For now, nothing.” Link took the helm out of Zelda’s hands and walked up the steps to Riju’s throne. He placed it on the arm of the throne for her, then looked down at her with a smile. “Three more Divine Beasts wait for their pilots.”

“And the kingdom of Hyrule awaits its princess.” Riju looked over at Buliara, who had remained strangely stoic during their exchange. “What say you, Buliara?”

“There have been many signs from your ancestors,” Buliara rumbled. “It is time for you to prepare for the ancient trials of the Gerudo Chieftains…and if they are the trials to pilot the Divine Beast, so be it.”

Riju’s jaw dropped. “Does that mean you will teach me the sword?”

Buliara nodded, and Riju jumped from her seat. “Then I accept, Zelda! I accept.”

Zelda was once again pulled into the young Gerudo’s wiry embrace, and this time, Link took the liberty to pile on and sweep both of them into his arms, laughing all the while.

 

_Urbosa walked straight into his dream like she owned the place. Considering that they were in the dunes of the Gerudo Desert, that was excusable._

_“You have turned out to be a more impressive voe than even I had imagined.” Urbosa smiled down at him, framed by moonlight. The hammered coins of gold on her skirts and tassels gleamed white in the night. “I didn’t think I would get a chance to congratulate you in person after your battle with the Calamity. Thank the Three, I have this last chance.”_

_She touched his cheek with a warm hand, her long nails skimming through his hair. Her pride in him was tangible, and he felt tears prick at eyes. His shoulders felt heavier than they had in a while; he was so tired._

_Urbosa tucked him against her side and led him across the desert to an oasis. They sat together with their feet in the water, her arm still around him. “I know that you do not fully remember the life in which we walked together,” she told him. “The princess and I spoke while you battled with the Thunderblight. You’ve really helped her, Link, even in such a short time.”_

_“I hope it makes up for the path I set her on,” he murmured. “I see her confidence and her smile and I think maybe it’s worth it.”_

_“Oh, it will be.” Urbosa ruffled his hair. “I’m confident that the two of you will lead Hyrule through any tempest—but you already have that within you, and Zelda is honing her own abilities on this journey of hers. Don’t feel bad for that.”_

_“But—”_

_“And_ don’t _feel guilty for wanting what all of us want: someone to look at us and see us completely and still to love us.” Urbosa gave him a soft rap on the head. “You of all people deserve that, Link. Let her try.”_

_Link covered his face in his hands to stem the flow of his tears, but he could not. Urbosa spoke to him with the absolute love and certainty of a mother—and he could not remember why, or what he had done to deserve it. All he knew was that it was something he missed terribly, and soon, he would be without it forever._

_“It’s like losing you all over again.”_

_“I know.” For the first time that Link could recall, Urbosa’s voice held the slightest tremor of sorrow. “It is so unfair that you lost the two mothers you had, with barely a memory of either. So I have shared with Zelda, in as much detail as I can recall, the story of how I came to love you as one of my own.”_

_Urbosa rubbed soothing circles on his back as he cried. “You are the pride of Hyrule, Hero. I am so lucky to have had the chance to say goodbye to the two of you.”_

 

Link woke dry-eyed and at peace. It was still dark out; the sliver moon was still high in the sky. Zelda, who had curled up in a tight ball in his arms, woke as well. “She’s gone,” she whispered in the darkness. “Isn’t she?”

He squeezed her to him more tightly but did not speak. There would be plenty of time for words on their journey to the Eighth Heroine in the morning. Right now, none of the words he could think of felt right.

 

Link and Zelda left for the Gerudo Highlands late the next afternoon. Despite what Link had thought in the night, right now both of them were quiet; they felt the absence of Urbosa’s watchful presence acutely. But also, there was a lynel in the Risoka Snowfield, somewhere, and they did not want to alert it to their presence. They hugged the westernmost edge of the canyon and trudged along through the bright morning. Zelda wore the snow boots, for Link still did not appreciate their utility, and Link was more accustomed to running in the snow than Zelda was anyway.

Within the hour, they found themselves standing atop the Eighth Heroine’s headdress. Her sword was missing, as, it seemed, was her symbol.

They scoured the crag she was in, and all around it, for any sign of her crest or the orb that should have accompanied her. They came up empty handed. “What does she even represent?” Link asked as they sat down to eat their dinner of spicy curried pork skewers he had prepared. “What do their symbols relate to, anyway?”

“I don’t pretend to know how a colon or a comma relates to skill, spirit, endurance, knowledge, flight, motion, or gentleness.” Zelda took another bite of her skewer and chewed it for a while. “What kind of virtues are ‘flight’ and ‘motion’?” she wondered aloud.

“Who are they?” Link added.

“I believe they are the seven Gerudo women, including the Spirit Sage Nabooru, who defied Ganon when he was king of the Gerudo. They were exiled for that. I also hypothesize that what is now the Yiga hideout may have been their home in exile.” Zelda sighed. “But who the eighth is…”

The sun, barely visible through the thickly falling snow, had begun to set. Zelda took a photo of the Eighth Heroine with the Slate and continued taking notes. “She’s different than the rest, Link,” she told him, a curious note in her voice. “She has the wrong hand on top of the other. Even the ancient Gerudo script inscribed on her belt is written in reverse!”

Link stood and started walking down the crag to get a better view of the statue. When he turned, Link saw the Eighth Heroine bathed in the amber light of the sunset; she did look like a bronze giant. He continued to watch her as the light traveled down her torso and then darken, as the sun set behind the neighboring mountains

In the fading light of dusk, the text on the statue’s belt began to glow with an eerie green light. Then, where her crest should have been carved on her breast, a symbol began to glow.

In the depths of his memory, Link heard impish laughter.

 

_“Some call our realm a world of shadows, but that makes it sound so unpleasant… The twilight there holds serene beauty. You have seen it yourself as the sun sets on this world. Bathed in that light, all the people are pure and gentle.”_

_“Do you now understand what I am? I’m a descendant of the thieving tribe that was banished to the Twilight Realm. What did you think happened to the magic wielders who sought to rule the Sacred Realm of the Goddesses?”_

 

Link looked up at the statue of Midna, and the single tear that had shattered the Mirror of Twilight.

“I guess this is later,” he said softly.

Zelda walked backwards toward him, Slate raised to photograph the strange markings of the Twili. “You seem stricken,” she called over her shoulder.

“It’s her.” He leveled his somber gaze at Zelda's back. "It's Midna."

Zelda froze. She lowered the Slate slowly and stared up at the Eighth Heroine, speechless.

Link continued to make observations. “The Twili language is like speaking backwards. Her tears were magic enough to break the Mirror of Twilight. She had _red hair._  The thieving tribe that we banished were originally part of the Gerudo. That's why she's one of their Heroines.”

“Oh, _Link.”_

Zelda clutched the Slate to her chest, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. There was a lost look on Link’s face, as though he did not know what to do with the information he had just presented, either.

“We must have told her story for hundreds of years,” she murmured. “To have her honored in this way…she must have been held in high regard.”

“She will be again,” Link said from behind her. “Let’s tell Riju.”

They climbed back to the arms of the statue to get a good picture of the glowing Heroine for Bozai. Once it had been collected, Zelda handed the Slate back to Link for safekeeping and carefully picked her way across to the statue’s chest. She leaned down to run her fingers across the Heroine’s crest.

No tide of memories overcame her, and no voices spoke to her from within. The stone under her hands remained cold and dead, and her heart was heavy with disappointment.

Zelda turned back to Link, ready to leave, and blinked. The somber light of dusk filtered through the falling snow and partially obscured Link from view, though he was merely feet from her. It was as though gauze was wrapped around her eyes.

“Link…”

She reached for him, and she saw the Triforce on the back of her hand.

 

_The imp was pale from head to toe, as though light-bleached. She rolled off of the wolf’s back, gasping wetly for air like a terminally ill child._

_“Please…princess… How do we break…the curse on this one?”_

_Zelda knelt by the small creature and took her clammy hand in her own._

_“This…is_ the one!” _Midna pushed her voice out forcefully, though it pained her. “You need him…and he needs you…to save your world.”_

_Zelda realized that the imp’s change of heart had less to do with her impending death than she might have originally thought. She had not known it were possible for mortal creatures to act so unselfishly._

_“Princess…_ please _…help…Link…”_

_Midna could not even open her eyes. Her voice was but a drowning whisper._

_Zelda raised her hand to confirm Midna’s proclamation and felt the response of her Triforce. Her Goddesses-given gift was to see the promise in those around her, and for so long, she had seen nothing. Until now. The boy had realized the nature of his soul and accepted his destiny at last. But what bound him is a different magic than what had first had transformed him upon entering the curtain of twilight. This was, indeed, a curse. She could not break it._

_She instructed the wolf, her destined Hero, to find the blade of evil’s bane. “Evil cloaks you like a dark veil, and that blade is the only thing that can cleave it. Go.”_

_“Link…you can… You can get to the woods…without me, right?” Midna asked. The wolf snorted and nuzzled her gray cheek affectionately. “Princess… I have one last request."  She was dwindling, fast. "Can you tell him where to find the Mirror of Twilight?”_

_Zelda’s tears dripped freely down her cheeks, hidden beneath her veil and hood. Her hand rested gently on Midna’s trembling breast, and she felt the gold trim on the soul held within it. Perhaps she had misjudged the imp, or perhaps Midna, too, had grown in her travels with Link._

_"Midna… I believe I understand now just who and what you are. Despite your mortal injuries, you act in_ our _best interest. These dark times are a result of our deeds in Hyrule, yet it is you who have reaped the penalty.”_

_She met the imp’s orange gaze and, in her Wisdom, knew that this was right._

_“Our world is one of balance,” Zelda said softly, stroking Midna’s hair. “Just as there is light to drive away darkness, so, too, is there benevolence to banish evil.”_

_“No! Link! Stop her!”_

_“Accept this now, Midna. I pass it to you.”_

 

Zelda’s knees buckled, and she toppled off the side of the Eighth Heroine’s arms.

Link dove off of the statue after her without a clue how to stop her fall—except by placing his own body between her and the ground. As he fell, he fell out of time and aimed the Sheikah Slate at her.

Before he could use Stasis, however, Zelda’s limp body became encased in golden light. He immediately proceeded to land and stare up at her as she slowly floated down. Perhaps one day he would be accustomed to these things…but not yet.

 _The Goddess stirs,_ Fi whispered in the back of his mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	22. The Virtue of Sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of filler before things get messy again. Plz feed me with comments :)

Zelda lay suspended just a few feet above the freezing ground. She did not move, not even when the wind picked up with enough force to make Link lose his footing momentarily. Divine Light rippled across her skin, and an invisible barrier stopped Link’s hand a few inches from touching her. Her face was utterly at peace, however, and she radiated heat like the sun, so he tried not to worry while he set up a campfire to keep _himself_ warm.

It took nearly an hour for the Light to fade from her skin, but when Link noticed it, he sprang into action to slip his arms beneath her and catch her before she could touch the ground. She was toasty warm and completely dead weight in his arms.

He brought her back to the nook he had made for himself and the fire, and Link wrapped himself completely around her to protect her slumber. Snow fell slowly but a few feet away; the world was quiet but for the soft, deep breaths of the sleeping princess in his arms and the crackle of the fire. He had rarely had a moment like this since they came to Gerudo Town—two weeks, three weeks, prior?

He had never wanted to leave Zelda’s side, for such revelations occurred in her presence. She had more stubbornness and conviction in her than he had given her credit for. Her laughter could make his heart swell to bursting. She stood taller, held her head higher, than he had ever seen it now or then. Day by day, his princess blossomed just as he had been promised by the gods in Hyrule Field. Surrounded by a thriving sea of Silent Princesses, they had promised him: _The Silent Princess will thrive in the Wild. Go get her._

Link rested his cheek on her silken hair and inhaled deeply the smell of magic that lingered on her.

Urbosa was right. He could not allow himself to feel personally guilty for the path Zelda had chosen to walk now…especially when it helped her cast off the shackles of doubt that her father and her court and her failures had placed on her spirit. Had he himself not gone through a long and arduous journey to be strong enough, brave enough, confident enough, to face the Demon? He had died, he had suffered, he had grappled with the Despair in his own soul, and now the Golden Goddesses called him their Champion. Link knew what it would mean for his princess to gain the favor of the Golden Ones once again; he knew how badly she wanted the power of the Triforce to restore her kingdom. He would do anything to help her attain those goals. But most of all, he wished to give his confidence and the peace in his soul to Zelda. Perhaps this was the way.

The icy Highland wind whistled through the canyon, but it did not dispel the warmth in his heart.

At least she would not walk her path alone.

 

Zelda turned into the warmth beside her and sighed softly. She felt completely at peace. She had acted out of divine conviction that Midna was key to overcoming Ganon, and she did not regret giving her spirit to her. When Mina shattered the Mirror of Twilight, she had not mourned, then, either—because Link was right. The Twili woman had acted out of Wisdom…

 _Link_.

Zelda inhaled deeply. She remembered all of it: the Age of Twilight. Most of all, she remembered Link. He had been wild then, and he was wild now; he smelled like dewy grass on a fresh morning and like horses and like wind. It was his arms around her now, keeping her safe in her restorative sleep.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and felt his grip around her loosen. She peered through her lashes at the backs of her hands, but the Triforce she had seen, both in the Highlands and in her memories of the Twilight Princess, was gone.

Zelda sighed and pressed her face back into Link’s chest. “Our world was so full of magic, Link… What happened to it?”

He sat up underneath her and reached for something. “I don’t know. Drink this?” It was a spicy elixir if there ever was one. She coughed at the kick in the back of her throat, but she appreciated his concern—and the warmth that soon flowed through her. “So you remembered something?”

“All of it. The Age of Twilight… My whole life.” Their eyes met, and the moment drew long as they both searched each others’ faces for something they could not name. “I feel…deeper,” she said finally. “There is more to me now than there was before. More experiences that… _I_ never had. A further awareness of my insides… It’s as though I remembered something I dreamed long ago, or a lesson I was taught as a child but forgot.”

Link pressed his forehead to hers. His bangs tickled her nose. “Like dreams that contain revelations,” he said. “Help you understand yourself more. They slip out of my grasp, but they’re there when I need them.”

She felt his smile against her face more than she saw it. “Link, I think I know what Midna’s virtue is. And how to restore her power.”

He made a questioning noise, and she reluctantly extricated herself from his grasp to step out of their nook and into the snow. The snow had died down, and she could see the stars hanging high above their heads. The moon was at its brightest, and the Eighth Heroine was illuminated from behind. Link and Zelda approached her feet and looked up at her in silence for a long, drawn out moment.

 _Forgive me, Link,_ she thought at last. She turned to her Hero and spoke to him in a halting voice. “I think that…in our history books and our legends, we forget that sacrifice isn’t just a noble thing. It’s an ugly, terrible, painful thing. You do it for the right reasons, but it still hurts. And in forgetting that, we forget to _mourn for ourselves.”_ She reached for his hands. “Midna loved you, and she left. You loved me, and you left. Our lives were all sacrifices…but _yours_ , Link. You have suffered so much for Hyrule, a-and for me.”

Link’s eyes glistened above her, but he did not say a word.

She had to swallow what felt like shards of glass in order to find her voice and continue. “I know you have overcome your bitterness, and a Despair beyond my grasp. But I hope that you can also acknowledge that your suffering _was_ unjust. Fate _has_ been cruel to you. Your pain was real, Link.”

Zelda took a deep breath. She hated to see this, to bring heartbreak fresh to his face, but she knew that this was the key not only to the mystery of the Eighth Heroine. This was a confession, a proclamation, an acknowledgment that he needed to hear.

“I want to know your suffering,” she whispered, running her thumbs across the back of his gloved hands. His fingers curled ever more tightly around hers. “I will remember, Link. I will love you not only for all that you are—noble, kind, steadfast, generous—but for all that you have sacrificed in my name.”

For the first time since he shared his heartbreak with her on Blatchery Plain, Zelda saw tears well in his eyes. This time, however, they contained a light that illuminated his weary face in the darkness.

Link blinked slowly, and his tears of light finally fell. Zelda reached with one hand to touch his cheek, and his hand followed hers as she stroked away his tears. Then, her fingers wet with the drops of moonlight, she led him to place their hands on the Heroine’s feet.

The invisible crest began to glow again, but this time it was not with the eerie green light of Twili magic. Instead, the teardrop glowed white in the night and shone softly on their wet faces.

“The Eighth Heroine is the Heroine of Sacrifice.” Zelda sniffled a little as the earth began to quake behind them. “That’s a much better virtue than _motion.”_

Link did not laugh; he had to sit, and he put his head in one hand while keeping hold of hers in the other. She sat beside him and leaned into his shoulder. Tears continued to fall between his fingers, though they no longer held moonlight in them.

She was surprised at how long he cried, considering he had claimed to have accepted all of the cruelty of fate and moved on from it. But the way he leaned against her, the way his grip on her hand cut off her circulation, the way his tears fell and would not cease, told her otherwise.

His breath came in shuddering gasps, leaving big puffs of white in the cold air around them.

“C-can you tell me what Urbosa said?”

 

When Link’s spirits had lifted, they entered the Shrine and took their reward. It was so quiet in the Shrine, it seemed to Zelda that the world was waiting for her to speak.

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” Zelda said.

Link shook his head and sent droplets of meltwater flying. He reached for her hand and pulled her into a deep, all-consuming kiss. She could sense that something in his heart had lightened, and she did feel accomplished for having played a part in that…even if she had had to break his heart in the process.

“You have a big heart,” he whispered against her cheek. His voice was hoarse from crying, but he was earnest. “I’m glad I have a space in it.”

She hooked her arms around his neck. “You _are_ my heart, Link.”

It felt wrong to kiss more ardently than that in front of the watchful, dead Sheikah monk, so Link reluctantly set her down and gave her one last peck on the lips before they approached the monk. To their surprise, Link received a Spirit Orb.

“Still?” he wondered aloud.

“I wonder if that means they have more in store for you.”

“I…” Link trailed off, but he didn’t finish the thought. Instead, he ignored Zelda’s curious look and took out the Slate to bring them back to Gerudo Town.

 

The next morning, they met with Riju over breakfast and told her what they had discovered. “Fascinating,” she said. “Truly, it is a forgotten virtue in Gerudo culture. Sacrifice implies defeat, and we are notoriously adverse to that.” She popped a cube of hydromelon into her mouth and sat back against her pillows, considering the Hero and the Princess before her. “I will instruct my historians to look into the matter. Zelda, you have truly done me a great favor. Perhaps by the time you visit here next, we will have opened the Seven Heroines’s coliseum for pilgrimages, with scholars there to educate visitors about the Eighth.”

“I do hope so,” Zelda said with a wide smile. “I’m just so glad we could solve such an ancient mystery!”

Link sat quietly, a small smile on his face as he listened to his two friends chatter on about history and pilgrims and re-establishing safe routes for trade between greater Hyrule and the Gerudo once more. He could have reminded Zelda that she had no government to repave the roads or messengers to advertise with or, indeed, many people to do trade, but he would not bring her down now. What mattered was that her sentiment was true, and Riju was receptive.

When they finished eating, Link helped the two young women to their feet. “Let’s go get my sand boots,” he said.

“I’m coming this time,” Riju said. “I want to make sure you get rid of that fool for good.”

Link sighed dramatically and led them to the gate of Gerudo Town. The guards giggled at Linny and pointed out where Bozai sat in the shade of an awning. “He stopped running the moment you spoke to him last,” the guards informed him. “He’s _waiting for you.”_

Link gave Zelda and Riju a stormy look, then jogged over to Bozai. The poor man’s shock that Link had returned and was _speaking_ to him was palpable in the way he _shrieked_ upon Link’s approach.

“Oh! Oh, thank goodness! You made it back safely! You were gone for so long, I started to fear the worst...”

Link planted himself in front of Bozai and bent down to pull the snow boots out of his pack while Bozai kept talking.

“I have to come clean. The eighth heroine is just an urban legend - it doesn't actually exist... I... Well, I just wanted an excuse to get close to you, y'know? I wanted to keep you engaged so I just thought up something impossible to hold your interest... And as a result, I put you in harm's way! I'm a cad! And I've been so, so worried... I won't put you in danger anymore! From now on, I'll be your protect—”

“Dear Goddesses,” Riju said in awe. “Is this what all voe are like?”

“A little,” Zelda admitted.

“Found it,” Link said. “Please shut up.”

“Are you trying to console me because I’ve been so heartsick over this? You’re such a kind soul. But no need to coddle me—”

Link straightened up, snow boots in one hand and Slate in the other. “Look at this!”

“That...certainly is...the way it was rumored to look...” Bozai seemed almost disappointed, until Link raised his eyebrows and the man remembered he was supposed to have been longing after the Eighth Heroine his whole life. “That—THAT'S AMAZING! I thought it was just an old wives' tale! The eighth heroine actually exists?! If the rest of the world knew this, it'd be absolute bedlam!”

Link put down the Slate and dropped the snow boots in front of Bozai, but it seemed the man had truly been swept away.

“I won't tell anyone... Yeah, that way, it'll be our little secret, right? Sort of a bonding thing. And yeah, i-if it's OK, I'd like to take this opportunity to ask you—”

“Sand boots, please!” Link said cheerfully.

“Oh… Oh, okay…” Bozai deflated. “Just a second.”

He sat back down to carefully take the boots off, and Link took the opportunity to look back at his audience and wink. Zelda couldn’t tell under his Gerudo mask, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find his tongue sticking out at her.

She snickered, and Riju waved playfully.

“Treat them as tenderly as you would me!” Bozai exclaimed, and everyone looked back to see him proffering his boots, standing barefoot in the sand. He wiggled his toes. “Boy, I’m pretty tired from my jogging regimen… I think I’ll just park myself under the tent in front of Gerudo Town and take five. Care to join me later?”

“Actually, Bozai… I need to tell you something important.”

Bozai’s eyes widened, and his cheeks may have reddened beneath his sunburn.

Link passed a hand over his eyes wearily. “I may be a Hylian vai, but I think I can speak for the Gerudo women too: trying to perform feats of valor and endurance to catch female attention aren’t going to work. I saw your sand boots, and that’s the only reason I wanted to talk to you! I wanted these boots for myself.” Link—or Linny, rather, put his hands on his hips. “Look, do you even know my name?”

Bozai quaked in his… Well, he had no boots. He was silent.

“Here’s how you attract women. You _don’t_. You make _friends_ , Bozai, and you show them that you are honorable and kind and empathetic. And then, maybe, one of them decides to spend their life with you. If not, hey, you have a friend.” Link inclined his head up at Bozai. “Do you get it? No one likes a try-hard, and no one likes an ulterior motive.”

Bozai whimpered so loudly that the women at the gate could hear it. “Oh, you’re so wise! You’re so _kind!_ You really took pity on me in my quest to find true love!”

“Sure,” Link said flatly. “Anyway, I think you should go home and find your old friends.”

“Th-that sounds so _wise!”_

Link shrugged and turned to go. “Be safe,” he said as an afterthought, and he returned to Zelda and Riju with his new sand boots.

“That _was_ far too kind,” Riju said. “I would have rather liked to see you fight him.”

“Aw, Riju, that wouldn’t be fair.” Link threw his boots in his pack and sighed. “I just know how exhausting it is to have all these dumb Hylian voe running around trying to impress you, you know?”

They caught the briefest hint of his smile as his veil fluttered in the breeze, and they laughed.

Riju leaned against the wall of the gate and regarded Link and Zelda coolly. “Friends, don’t think that I haven’t seen the change in your…interactions over the course of your time here,” she proclaimed. “I am glad to have been witness to it. And I am glad that our relationships have grown closer over the past several weeks. Yet…”

She reached out and took one of each of their hands. “I know when it is time to say goodbye, and thank you. You have taught me much in a short time. You are always welcome in Gerudo Town, as long as you obey our laws, and we will always be your ally.”

As soon as Riju left, Link drew Zelda out of the guards’s sight, put on his sand boots, and ripped off his veil and headcovering to tie his hair up with the sapphire band of the voe. “Gotta take these for a test run,” he said pleasantly. “Maybe Bozai will notice this guy who looks exactly like that wise girl he talked to now has his sand boots.”

Zelda laughed. “I somehow doubt it.”

She waved as he took off around the edge of town. In the meantime, she looked down at the Slate and at the three remaining golden markers. She was glad that Link had taken her to Gerudo Town first. Riju was right: she had learned so much in such a short time, here in the desert. She felt closer to Urbosa, closer to her own mother, and of course, closer to Link than ever.

Where should she go, and what would she learn, next?


	23. Unpleasant Insight.

Link jogged up to her, having hardly broken a sweat in his lap around Gerudo Town. “These are great,” he proclaimed. “They’re only _kind_ of sweaty.”

Zelda laughed. “I’m glad they fit,” she said.

“I’ve gotten used to shoes that don’t fit right. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She frowned at him, but she shrugged. He did have an impressive collection of clothes, and some of them fit her. She might as well be grateful for his collecting habits.

“Well, Captain, I think we should return to Kakariko and rendezvous with Granté and Paya. See what the bad news is all about.”

He nodded, beaming. “We can glide down from the Shrine now—together!”

“Indeed.” She smiled back at him and took the Slate from his waistband. “Kakariko it is.”

Link’s ears perked up the moment they landed, and he whirled around to face the path up the hill. “Zelda,” he whispered, “have you ever seen a blupee?”

“A _what?”_

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and took her hand. They crawled through the tall grass along the side of the path for a ways, until, just around the bend, Zelda saw a flash of light that made her sit up on her knees for a better look.

The strangest creature stood in the grass before her, nibbling on a long piece of straw. Each of its ears was like golden laurels, and its face was like an owl—but by all rights, it was a rabbit of some sort.

Link was readying his bow at her side, to her horror. “Don’t shoot it!” she hissed. “I would like to study it!”

He ignored her and raised his bow. “Trust me,” he said, and released his shot.

The blupee jumped five feet in the air, its legs pedalling, and it hopped off in a panic…leaving a large pile of rupees in its wake. “You’ll appreciate this,” Link said, standing. “A korok and I have a scholarly debate going on. If blupees shit rupees, do they _make_ all the rupees in the world?”

Zelda stared, open-mouthed, in response to the jumble of unbelievable words that he had just spewed. “I…I…”

Come to think of it, she had never seen anyone _make_ rupees. The Treasury simple housed a collection of them. And while she had always assumed rupees were made of sapphires and rubies and silver and gold…she had never seen a green jewel before.

She closed her mouth. “A korok?”

Link helped her to her feet and handed her his fistful of rupees. With his newly freed hands, he fished around in his pack for something. “I’ve never been able to get a photo of one,” he said, “but I have something better.”

He pulled out a giant leaf, with two red ribbons that attached to the sides. The leaf had black shapes seemingly painted on it as a facsimile of a face. Link held it up to his face and tilted his head. She heard _his_ laugh behind the mask, and then she heard a high-pitched giggle and rattle that surely did not come from her friend.

The mask shook, emitting white, glowing particles and a rattling sound.

“There’s a korok nearby. We can find it later, after our business is done.” Link removed the mask and held it out to her to take. “See? There’s still plenty of magic in the wild, princess.”

Zelda’s heart warmed at his words. Perhaps there was much more beneath the surface of her ruined kingdom than ancient constructions meant to test her. Perhaps there were some simple wonders left to rediscover.

 

They glided down to Impa’s front porch and entered inside without fanfare. Granté, Paya, and Impa were seated at the front of the room, conversing in heated tones.

Impa’s hat jingled as she looked up at the visitors. A smile did not appear on her face.

“Have you accomplished your task?” she asked sharply.

Zelda was taken aback by the sour welcome. “Yes,” she said, her voice hardening to meet Impa’s tone. “One of _four.”_

Impa seemed not to have realized the true extent of their quest; she seemed surprised and—disappointed? Whatever the look in her eye, it did not sit well with Zelda. She felt a cold weight drop into her stomach.

Link touched her shoulder briefly.

She drew a breath and summoned the strength to hide her hurt. There were important things to discuss. “What have you found, Granté, Paya?”

“Come,” Granté said. “You might want to take a seat for this.”

They were poring over a map, and several ancient scrolls were scattered about them. “No time for stories,” Granté said, shooting Impa a look. “Ka’loh has been instructed by their dark master to destroy the Forgotten Temple. They believe it will be sealed if and when they find it, and they think that the Sheikah orbs are key to opening it.”

Link and Zelda exchanged a glance. “At the risk of stating the obvious… _what_ Forgotten Temple?” Zelda asked.

“That’s what we were trying to figure out,” Granté said, gesturing at the scrolls around them. Zelda reached for one and found that its edges crumbled in her hands.

“The Yiga are about as lost as we are,” Paya said. “That’s the good news.”

Link rested his chin on his hand. “The bad?”

“If they manage to find the temple, they believe they will be able to finally have the power to carry out Demise’s will.”

Zelda nearly crushed the scroll in her grasp. Ever mindful of the value of ancient texts, she placed it slowly back on the ground. _To destroy us?_ she wondered. _To claim the Triforce for his own?_

Her thoughts whirled. There were so many tasks laid out before her now: find and protect this Forgotten Temple from the Yiga; complete the Trials of each Champion and name their successors to pilot the Divine Beasts; begin gathering supporters for her claim to the throne; search out artifacts and places that could help her unlock her memories faster…

Her eyes were drawn to Link’s face, and she found his keen eyes already on hers. She sensed that he had something to tell her, but for the moment, she was comforted. They had beat the Yiga, they had beat the Calamity, this was but one more trial. They had all the time in the world. Or so she hoped.

“I believe that we are speaking of _the first temple,”_ Impa said. “The ancient Sheikah sealed it away in a time of crisis to protect it and what is hidden within it. Its locations, and its contents, have long been forgotten even by our people.”

“Here is what we were arguing about when you came in,” Granté said, with another cautious glance at Impa. “Auntie believes you must set out to find the Temple at once.”

“But you have a Divine quest to complete!” Paya exclaimed. “If you have access to the full power of the Triforce, you need not worry about the Yiga clan at all!”

“And you have no clue where to start looking for the Forgotten Temple, either. It would be a waste of time to set out right now—”

 _“As I was about to say,”_ Impa interrupted forcefully, “I _agree_."

They stared at her in silence for a beat. "You do?"

"Granté, you should look into the whereabouts of the temple. Now that Hyrule Castle is rid of monsters, one may search the royal research archives and legendarium. Paya, you and I will continue to investigate the orb’s whereabouts and who the traitor in our ranks may be.” The old woman inclined her head toward Zelda. “Forgive me for thinking the Golden Ones would give you a simple task to complete. Paya is correct: if you have access to the full power of the Triforce, finding and protecting the Forgotten Temple will be an easy feat—and perhaps unnecessary.”

Impa’s eyes glinted with an impetuous light, and Zelda sensed that despite acquiescing to the others’ reasoning, she still had to be a little contrary. _“But_ we do not know what is housed in the Forgotten Temple, and what it may mean for your safety if the Yiga _do_ find it before you satisfy the Golden Ones’s desires.”

Zelda nodded. “That’s a great point,” she said. It would do no good to dismiss Impa’s words, which were born out of the woman’s care for her safety. Even though their delivery grated on Zelda and her already tense nerves. “Granté, if you have not finished searching through these texts here, I would love to help you. And I would appreciate that if you do go to the royal archives, you search particularly for what was sealed away—so that I may know what lies in store for us, whether in the Yiga’s hands or otherwise.”

The young Sheikah nodded. “Of course, princess.”

Link, who had sat silently through the tense discussion, stood. There was something about the air around him, or the set of his shoulders, or the look in his eye that drew all attention to him. Zelda recognized it from his days as a leader of the Royal Guard. Though several feet shorter than most of his men, he could command a room…even an army.

“While you pursue your ancient knowledge, I will do what I can to find the mole.” He fixed Paya with his piercing blue gaze, and she jumped up. “Let’s run through the possibilities outside, Paya.”

Link nodded briefly at Zelda, and she nodded in return. Whatever he had to say could wait while Zelda did what she knew how to do best: stick her nose in dusty scrolls.

She turned back to Impa and Granté and reached for another scroll, but Impa cleared her throat. “Princess, I apologize again. I was too hasty in my concern about the grave news Granté and Paya brought to me… I should ask how your journey has been, and your training?”

Zelda finally smiled. “You haven’t told her, Granté?”

He shook his head. “I thought I’d leave the honors to you.”

 

Link and Paya sat in a shadow and observed the daily routines of the Sheikah villagers unnoticed. Link was pleased to find that, for all the trouble the stolen Sheikah orb had brought, it had also ignited something in Paya that overrode her demure nature. She hadn’t stuttered once in his presence, and as she crouched next to him, he could sense a quiet intensity in her that, a few months ago, he wouldn’t have guessed she possessed.

He felt bad for leaving Zelda for so long, but he had sensed the growing tension between the princess and Impa and he knew they needed to resolve it—or else Zelda would be consumed with it for weeks. Hopefully by now, they had sorted it out and were poring over ancient scrolls and talking about potential apocalypses and dooms or whatever they discovered.

Link’s legs were getting cramped. Hopefully, the traitor would reveal themselves soon.

Paya gave him the barest hint of a nudge. They had broken off, occasionally, to tail a villager acting in a suspicious manner. Link had discovered a woman whose lover had died, and who mourned in secret; Paya had found out that another villager secretly liked to take plums from the forbidden yard when the owner wasn’t looking. None of them were particularly Yiga-spy behaviors.

But now, Paya’s eyes were fixed on Dorian as he yawned and stretched and set off for home. Link raised an eyebrow at Paya. _Really?_

She gestured for him to follow this time, and they both set off through the shifting Kakariko shadows after the guardsman. He walked up the hill, and Link was certain he was simply going home to Koko and Cottla—until he walked past the house. Link’s suspicions were immediately aroused.

They were close enough to hear him muttering under his breath: “How could they…”

Dorian was never one to lose his temper, and to see and hear such fury in his demeanor was shocking.

Link took the lead now. He guessed that Dorian was headed up the hill to the Shrine, at the very least, so he hurried to scale the wall and reach the Shrine before the guard did. He and Paya sat in the shadowy mouth of the Shrine and waited for Dorian to pass by.

They saw him glance around nervously, and behind him, but he did not see them and did not seem to think he was being followed, at the very least. He continued on his path out of the town, and Link wondered if he were going to the Great Fairy. They considered her their guardian spirit, perhaps it made sense to go seek her aid for whatever had upset him so.

But no. Dorian took the fork in the road that lead…well, Link had never explored in that direction. He did not know what lay ahead. He and Paya followed Dorian through the trees until, finally, they saw his goal: the glowing Sheikah pedestal in the clearing up ahead. Link had never known such a thing had been hidden so close to Kakariko, so close to Ta’loh Naeg’s Shrine.

Dorian paused in the middle of the wooden footbridge over the fish pond, and he seemed to take a deep breath, as though summoning courage.

Link and Paya were close behind. If he turned now, he would see them.

He did not turn.

“I know you’re there!” Dorian called into the night. In a flurry of talismans and malicious sparks, a Blademaster appeared atop the Sheikah pedestal. Link inhaled sharply in surprise—but it was not Ka’loh. Dorian bared his teeth at the Blademaster. “I’ve decided! I can no longer watch as you plan that poor girl’s demise!”

“Such anger,” the Blademaster cooed. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to leave our clan, Dorian. You forfeited your life the moment you left. This was but a thread of hope we _allowed_ you to have. Unfortunately, your usefulness has come to an end…as must you.”

The hairs on the back of Link’s arms prickled; his hand twitched for the Master Sword of its own accord.

“FOR MY FALLEN MASTER!”

Link leaped forward to block the sharp blow of wind that the Blademaster had sent careening toward his and Paya’s hiding spot. It whistled by him on either side, harmlessly.

The battle was over before it even started. Paya lodged several kunai in critical points in the Blademaster’s legs, and when he fell to his knees Link swiftly disarmed him. In the span of a breath, Link had the Master Sword held to the Blademaster’s neck, the edge of the blade close enough to draw blood. “If you move to leave, your head will not leave with your body,” Link assured him.

The Blademaster growled, and Link nudged the Sword closer. It shut the poor man up immediately.

Link stared deep into the upside-down eye on the Yiga’s mask for a long, drawn out moment, as he considered what to say to the Blademaster. “What does Demise seek, in sending you to the Temple?”

The clansman drew a deep breath—then began to laugh. Link’s face darkened, but before he could say or do anything, the Blademaster’s laugh became a wet gurgle. A kunai jutted from his throat.

Link whirled on Paya and Dorian, but he could not tell who had struck the Blademaster down. He had no words for them. Perhaps the Blademaster would never have answered him, but having a Yiga prisoner meant he at least had the slimmest chance of finding out what the clan was planning. Now, that chance was bleeding out on the ground at his feet.

He sighed internally. He would find out eventually.

As he approached Paya and Dorian, he guessed that Paya, unbelievably, had been the one to strike the killing blow. He should have known better than to doubt her Sheikah training; she had the traditional tattoos for a reason.

He would need to be especially quick to make sure she didn’t kill Dorian prematurely.

“Dorian,” Link greeted.

“Link… I’m sure you’ve figured it out, but all of this is my fault,” Dorian said gruffly. “There’s no point trying to hide it. I am…a member of the Yiga Clan. Or I used to be, anyway.”

Dorian passed a hand over his eyes regretfully. “I was part of your mother’s generation, Paya, who followed Kohga for the promise of glory and agency. But I met the most incredible woman who blessed me with two amazing children, and I knew I couldn’t stay a part of a murderous, thieving organization like the Yiga. I tried to change my ways. Tried to leave the clan.”

Dorian deflated all at once. He stood limply at Paya’s side, unable to meet either her or Link’s eyes. “The Yiga…they took my wife’s life as punishment and threatened my children. They had me use my position as gatekeeper to gather information for the Yiga. I told them about you, and Impa’s plans, and the princess’s return, in exchange for safety.”

“And the heirloom!” Paya hissed.

“No, not the heirloom,” Dorian insisted. “But they threatened my children again unless I stood aside and allowed them to enter while you were gone, Paya. They said they would kill you and Impa as well, rather than just steal the heirloom—and I couldn’t let harm come to you…” He hung his head. “Forgive me… I knew, as you must, that whatever they planned to do with the heirloom would cause harm befall Princess Zelda and you, Link…and I couldn’t stand by any longer. I finally decided to face my fate, even if that meant risking my life. If I could show the Yiga I was too much trouble, or—or if I fell, my children would be safe.”

“Paya,” Link said quietly. “Koko and Cottla miss their mother so much. I believe this family has suffered enough at the hands of the Yiga.”

Dorian looked at Link in surprise, for he had not asked for mercy or forgiveness. But Link’s attention was firmly on Paya. Her gaze darted nervously between Link and Dorian, then settled on the starry sky above them. “Yes. I don’t think my grandmother or anyone in the village need hear about this. But!” She raised a finger in Dorian’s direction. “You will polish the floor of the lodge for me from now on!”

The guardsman breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his throat, as though recognizing how close he had come to the Blademaster’s fate. “I truly don’t deserve mercy, Paya, but thank you for thinking of my children. I know it doesn’t make up for what I’ve done, but I pledge to protect the village, and Link and the princess, as I do my family, from now on. No matter what it costs me.”

Paya turned on her heel and began to walk away without another word, but Link stayed a moment longer. “You said you were part of Paya’s mother’s generation,” he said. “What can you tell me about Ka’loh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon we will get back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans, but the gears of the plot must rotate a little longer.... R&R in the meantime


	24. Bitter Amoranth.

Link caught up with Paya just as she entered town again. “Paya,” he called. “Are you feeling alright?”

She stopped, straightened her back, and took a deep breath. Link was then sure everything was not alright, but when she turned to face him her face was carefully calm. “What do you mean, Link? I’m just upset about what happened.”

“About Dorian, or about the man you just killed in cold blood?” he replied. “I just want to be sure.”

Paya’s eyes drifted downward. “Link… I-I…”

Link could feel that tears were about to be shed, so he took Paya under his arm and led her to sit under a nearby tree for some privacy. She clung to the fabric of his sleeve even after they sat, and she stared down at the stitching as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Finally, she spoke. “I-I…needed to prove to Dorian…and to _y-you_ …I’m not someone to be pitied.”

Link blinked. “That’s admirable, Paya, but you don’t have to do that by killing anyone or making someone mop floors.”

Paya hung her head. “C-can I tell you something?” she whispered. “Y-you can’t tell Zelda or Granté.” He said nothing—for such a promise he dared not make—but Paya continued regardless. “Grandmother thinks th-that her time in this world i-is d-drawing to an e-end.” She buried her face in her hands. “Sh-she s-says I n-need to g-grow up! B-b-because I will lead the Sh-sheikah when she’s g-gone!”

Link stared at Paya as she bawled into her hands. He now understood why he could not tell Zelda this under any circumstance. But poor Paya was dealing with it all alone. “Paya, I think you need to understand that you can’t be anyone except yourself.” He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Your grandmother certainly likes to think she can control how we turn out. She has the best intentions, and she speaks from experience. But I think I’ve turned out fine despite defying her expectations and being myself, and I think you will, too.”

Paya sniffled. “I h-heard all of y-your arguments,” she admitted. “I j-just d-don’t think I’m as b-brave as you.”

“Paya, honestly, I’ve been scared out of my mind about whether or not I was making the right decisions until very recently.” She looked up at him in shock, and Link nodded. “It helped that I had no memory of how close Impa and I once were. But I know you can stand up to her, too.” Link sighed. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think the Sheikah need a military leader in these times. Your numbers are too small. They will need someone who can look to the future with hope, who can forgive and show compassion for those who may have transgressed. How else will we rebuild?”

 

Zelda stood the moment Paya and Link returned, for she had seen the glum look on Paya’s face, but Link gave her an imperceptible shake of the head. “Impa has retired for the night,” Zelda said. “I think Granté and I have discovered all we can, so we should probably retire as well.”

Granté glanced between Link and Paya. “Did something happen?”

“The spy has been taken care of,” Link said, saving Paya from any sort of explanation. “Didn’t recover the orb, though.”

“Ah, well. Zelda and I doubt that the orb is really going to open the sealed temple, anyway.” Granté began to gather up the scrolls and maps scattered all across the floor of the lodge. “I’m going to head to the royal archives first thing in the morning. I imagine I won’t see the two of you before I head out?”

Zelda smiled at Link. “I think we’ll take the chance to sleep in, so you are probably right.”

Link nodded sheepishly and clasped Granté’s hand tightly. “Thank you. Especially for the extra arrows.”

Granté winked behind his hair. “Anytime.”

Link gave Paya a comforting pat on the shoulder and then extended a hand for Zelda. “Home?” he asked.

Zelda had already selected their destination on the Slate, and there was no time to answer before the aura swept them away.

“Home,” Zelda said when they reappeared in Hateno.

They began their slow walk toward Link’s house, the stars hanging high above them. A thick silence fell between the as they approached the bridge, and by some unspoken agreement, they stopped to take in the sight of the dark windows and moonlit yard.

Zelda laced her fingers with Link’s and leaned in to his shoulder. “What were you going to tell me at Impa’s?”

Link snorted. “To stop worrying.” She gave him a sour look, but he shrugged it off. “Really. Granté is right. If we’re meant to find the Forgotten Temple, we will. These things fall into place when the Goddesses are at work. You’ve seen it yourself.” He squeezed her hand. “And I was going to tell you what you seemed to have discovered: the orbs only reveal hidden Shrines, which only we can activate and open. So let the Yiga waste their time with the stolen orb. Let them steal all the orbs in Hyrule.”

Zelda smiled a little. “I spent several hours looking in to that matter, and you could have just told me? What a waste.”

He took a step toward the smoldering fire at the cooking pot, doubtless a sign that Bolson and his crew had been watching over the house while they were gone. “They didn’t feed you, did they? Nothing but ancient knowledge?”

Zelda smiled and let him lead her to the fire. “How did you know?” She rested her chin on her hands and watched while Link stoked the fire and laid out his cooking utensils. He still wore his Stealth armor, and in the moonlight she could see the curve of every muscle in his arms and back as he worked. His hair was silver in the night, like…like something familiar.

Link looked up and caught her staring and offered her a small smile before going back to cooking.

She blinked rapidly as the wind shifted and pushed smoke into her face. She found, suddenly, that she was hardly tired at all. “Link,” she said, “I wonder if it would be possible to…acquire a book for me to write in.”

“Your diary?”

 _Oh no,_ Zelda thought. “Don’t tell me you _have it.”_

Link set down the chopsticks he was using to scramble some eggs and reached back into his pack. “You had me find your study, Zelda,” he said dryly. “I have your diary and your field journal.” He handed her a bundle of books and papers that were, indeed, her research notes and her diary.

She stared at him without accepting the books, trying to read his mind just by looking at him. “Of course I read them,” he said. “I was trying to find any and every piece of you that I could find. I scoured Hyrule to remember you. And remember, I forgive you of any and all brattiness.”

Zelda took her notes and diary and hugged them to her chest. “It still feels so strange,” she admitted. “It feels like yesterday my father was alive, and we were only just becoming friends, and the Calamity seemed like a fairy tale that would never come true.”

Her grip on the books tightened. Though what she had said was true—she still caught herself thinking that at any moment she would be pulled back to the Castle to resume her duties as a princess, she still felt helpless about her inability to use her golden powers—it was likewise hard to reconcile who she was now with what she had been before the Calamity.

The past month since she’d been free had passed so quickly, though at times she felt mired down in worry and self-doubt. She had become somewhat of a swordsman, had gained a perhaps mystical knowledge of hand-to-hand combat and Sheikah martial arts, and had killed men and molduga. She had kissed a man and learned to kiss well (she hoped), and…well, just thinking about it all made her cheeks feel hotter than live coals.

Link offered her another book. This was bound in gold and had been preserved from the elements, though its age was apparent. As she opened the cover, her eyes recognized the shape of the letters, the curve of the writing, before she even read the name.

Her eyes burned.

“Your father had a hidden study within the library,” he said quietly. “But this…” He held out another book, moldy and ugly and worn. “This was your father’s journal while he watched over me on the Great Plateau.”

Zelda’s vision blurred with tears, but she forced herself to blink them away and focus on the dear man sitting across from her. He could have left all of these where he had found them, yet he had gathered them…not because they had any value to him—which was doubtful—but because he had known what they would mean to her.

“Bolson left loose leaf paper and a quill at the desk upstairs,” Link said. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go inside and—”

Zelda stood, closed the few feet that separated them, and kissed him soundly. He smiled up at her almost shyly. “Thank you,” she said, kissed him again, and flew inside.

Link was thankful for the solitude; he was, frankly, weary of tears. He knew that it would be difficult for Zelda to read her father’s journals, and he had no words, really, that could bring her solace. Her father had been an asshole and furthermore a fool for believing that asceticism and castigation would bring out the Goddess’s power in his only child. Link still had not found it in _his_ heart to think kindly of the King, but he understood that it was important for Zelda to rebuild that bond.

As he waited for the rice to finish cooking, he stared down at his hands. He had forgotten how...sharp and pragmatic she had been in the Twilight Era. They had both been harder then.

Perhaps that was why she had been able to sleep soundly the past few nights. He had worried that she would be haunted by the Yiga she had killed in Karusa Valley, fretted about the blood on her hands as she had when she had wounded the Yiga footsoldiers sent to kill her in the desert. He didn’t believe that intellectually accepting that she would need to someday get over her distaste for violence, for it would be her duty, would alleviate her psyche as it seemed to have.

He appreciated that she had taken it in stride, but something in his heart twisted nonetheless. Perhaps, if he were to admit it, he had foolishly hoped that he would always be the one to strike down her enemies and shield her from danger.

The food finished, Link returned to the house and found Zelda dry-eyed at the fireplace. She had a mortar and pestle in hand and a pile of amoranth seeds and dried ironshrooms at her side. She looked up when he entered and took a deep whiff of the dinner he brought with him.

“Mmm!”

“What are _you_ making?” he asked, coming to sit by the fire as well. Tables were overrated. At this distance, he could see the red around her eyes and knew that she had at least shed some tears while he was outside.

“The elixir,” she said. She bit her lip nervously when he waited for a further explanation. “You know…”

 _Oh_. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned completely red from the neck up. He certainly felt hot around the collar. “Ah… Where’d you remember that from?”

“From me,” she said, as though that explained everything. “Purah and Urbosa were both quite insistent that I memorize the recipe. I do need one more ingredient, though. Do you have any sort of horn? Goat would do.”

“No goat.” He was a little disgusted that he was putting bokoblin horns into an elixir she would _drink_ , but that seemed the least off-putting out of all the horns that he had. She, too, made a bit of a face, but added it to the powder she had already ground and set it aside to finish after dinner. As she tucked in to her rice bowl, he got the sense that there was something on her mind. He wondered if he was going to push his luck and ask her.

He was.

“Zelda?”

She made a noise around the food in her mouth, and he chuckled as she tried to chew and swallow before speaking—ever the princess. “I never asked you what happened in Naboris. I just assumed you had to fight, and overcome your fear like the Goddesses said.” She raised another forkful to her mouth but hesitated, her eyes sliding away from his in embarrassment. “I’m sorry for getting so caught up in my own tasks that I forgot to ask.”

Link let out a breath. Goddesses, he loved her when she was bashful. “I faced the Scourge in my voe armor, with Urbosa’s weapons and the Slate and nothing else.” He caught the way her eyes widened. “It was tough. I think it was worth it, though. The Goddesses called me to them afterward and gave Urbosa’s Fury even more strength.”

“They called you _to_ _them?”_ Zelda’s eyes were wide as she took another bite.

He nodded. “They appear to me as Sheikah Elders. I can only see Farore’s face, and she’s always been the nicest. Din has a staff and rubies in her hair, and she always seems displeased. And until then, Nayru had never spoken to me.” He considered something. “I only ever had to prove my worth to Din and Farore in person. I think freeing Naydra was enough for Nayru.”

Zelda lowered her bowl. “Do…do you think I’ll ever see them?”

He was surprised by the weight of her words, but then again, he knew how seriously she took her Divine quest and the will of the Goddesses. “Yes,” he said. “Without a doubt. _Zelda_ , they call you their most loyal daughter.” Link cupped her cheek in his hands and made her look at him. “They only value me for what I do for _you_.”

Her green eyes searched his gaze for something—honesty, perhaps, or the meaning of his words. She reached up to hold one of his wrists and leaned in to his touch. “It’s strange to hear that,” she admitted. “Speaking with Impa, everything feels like I’m just doing this for myself. Running away from my duty and my people…”

“What people?” Link brushed his thumbs across the soft, warm skin of her cheeks. They were slightly sunburned from their time in the desert, and more freckles had appeared across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He resisted the urge to kiss each and every one of them. “Zelda, Hyrule is a wilderness. Hateno is one of the largest settlements of your people, and they’re functioning just fine. They will welcome you with open arms, but in order to help them grow, you will need to overcome something so great, so vast, that no living being _but you_ could hope to do it.” He bit his lip. “I couldn’t do it, Zelda. I’ve met so many people, helped them, earned their favor and gratitude—but that doesn’t mean I know how to unite them.”

“As if I do.” She sighed.

“But what else are you supposed to do?” he asked her. “Securing the power of the Triforce is the only logical way forward, isn’t it? What alternative does Impa have? Sending _letters?_ Isn’t it much better to do what you’re doing: visiting each settlement, each ally you would have, personally?” Zelda allowed a small smile to cross her face, and he felt a flare of triumph in his chest. “There are no kings, no courtiers, no messengers, no priests, no one to tell you how to live your life, princess. And whatever Impa is, you needn’t listen to her, either. Don’t feel guilty for enjoying your journey.”

They finished their rice bowls and finished the elixir. It was an innocuous indigo paste until Zelda watered it down; it smelled vaguely of amoranth but not much else. “We’ll each take a sip every morning,” she said, “if you’re okay with it. It should take a few days to go into effect.”

Link sighed dramatically. “Anything for you, princess.” When she winced, he swept her into his arms and headed upstairs with her. “I faced the Demon for you,” he said. “Drinking an elixir everyday is but a small Trial.”

She was smiling when he set her down in bed and kissed her.


	25. Reunions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does a little Skyward Sword sound?

_She was at the Great Plateau, as she knew it today: in ruins, reclaimed by nature. But her body was not the body of a seventeen-year-old. Instead, she was small again, and her father towered above her as he always seemed to. When she was young, she had thought him as big as the Zora King, and perhaps as old. Now, his beard was snowy white to match his age._

_Zelda felt shy in his presence and scuffed her sandaled feet in the weeds that had grown up between the stone path up to the Temple of Time._

_“Daddy?” she whispered._

_“My dear Zelda,” he rumbled. “I have begged the Goddesses and your mother for forgiveness, and now I have come to ask you for yours.”_

_Her eyes widened as words she never thought she would hear reached her ears, resonated in her heart. Before she could formulate a reply, their surroundings had changed, and they stood in a great field—surrounded by Silent Princesses as far as eye could see._

_He knelt beside her in the flowers. “In life, I was not known for my wisdom, insight, or generosity—nor for my great capacity to love. I was often at a loss for how to raise you, to temper your bright spirit with the strength I sensed you would require to face your destiny… But I loved you, little bird, more than the kingdom is vast. Please know that.”_

_“I know, Daddy,” she said. She reached her tiny hand up to his bushy beard, to the whiskers above his mouth, and patted his cheek. “I know,” she repeated. “You really hurt me.”_

_His skin was weathered and sunburnt from his century-long vigil outside the Shrine of Resurrection. Tears formed like dewdrops in his crow’s feet. “I thought to give you the strength that had helped me: a hardness of heart. I should have recognized sooner that, like all stories of the Goddess, you would need to follow your heart to save us all.”_

_She pressed a kiss to his cheek so light it was like a butterfly’s brief step across a flower petal. “You are a big fool,” she said. “I forgive you a million times.”_

_He wrapped her in a tender embrace that picked her off her feet and swallowed her up in his thick coat and his beard and his warmth._

_“I was allowed to watch you from my purgatory here on the Plateau,” he said when he finally set her down. “The Goddesses told us that the Silent Princess will thrive in the wild—and you have. I am so, so proud of you, Zelda.”_

_She sat in the flowers and set about gathering those nearest to her for a flower crown. Her face was warm, her heart was full, at her father’s words of pride. She would allow him to continue. He did have nearly a decade of torment to make up for._

_“They have told me some of what awaits you,” Rhoam said, and she glanced up in surprise. “I know you will find it no trial at all compared to what you have faced already. You are so strong, Zelda. So brave. And you have such a wealth of love in your heart…I have no doubt that you will find happiness and share it with all of Hyrule.”_

_He sniffed deeply as she set the chain of flowers on his head in place of his missing crown—it was a little small, but it was what she could offer. “I forgive you,” she said softly, and pressed one last kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you, Daddy.”_

 

Zelda woke early, despite her promise to sleep in. She lay comfortably in Link’s arms for a while, but soon she became restless and slipped out of bed. She was not hungry yet and knew that the smell of food would immediately wake her sleeping knight—something she was loathe to do—so instead she sat at the downstairs table and opened her father’s journal once again.

Someone had placed a Silent Princess between the pages, and it had pressed beautifully in the dry sheets. Zelda ran her fingertips carefully across the veins of its petals and smiled a little.

She decided that she _could_ go for an apple and remembered the many red baubles that hung on the tree outside. A knight’s bow stood by the door, and Link’s quiver and bag had been tossed in a corner nearby. She had recalled some lessons from the Age of Twilight and was interested to see if she could put them to good use.

She slipped out the door quietly, and Link did not seem to stir.

 

Zelda found that she certainly remembered the _basics_ of archery, but she would not be shooting the Bow of Light at Ganon on horseback anytime soon. She only managed to knock one apple from the tree, but it was possibly the best apple she had ever bitten into.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Zelda spun around, mouth full of apple, and saw Bolson standing near the corner of the house. She waved and approached, trying to chew and swallow before reaching him. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

“Isn’t it?” Bolson smiled up at the blue sky. “I thought I’d find our stud doing some yardwork out here, but instead I found his warrior princess! Imagine my delight.”

He held out his hand. “Bolson’s the name! Carpentry and construction is the game.”

Zelda smiled shyly. _Warrior princess?_ “Pleasure to finally meet you, Bolson. My name is Zelda.”

Bolson cocked his head to the side and gave her a look that said he was sizing her up. She hurried to keep talking, suddenly unsure of how she would handle being _questioned_ about her identity. “Link introduced me to Hudson in Akkala, of your construction company. He has done a marvelous job with his town.”

“So I’ve heard! Still, he didn’t name the town as per the company’s guidelines.” Bolson crossed his arms and sniffed primly. “All names must end in -son!”

Zelda had heard. “But surely he has made up for it by finding a fiancee named Rhondson! Oh, you haven’t heard?” She beamed at Bolson’s shocked face. “Yes! Hudson is engaged. We are to find a priest for them.”

“So good old Hudson is finally settling down, eh?” Bolson muttered. “And Link too. Maybe it’s time for me to set out to find a partner _not_ of the business kind.”

“You know, Bolson, Link was telling me you had a big expansion planned,” Zelda said.

“Ah yes! Since Hudson’s had so much success with Tarrey Town, I’d like to start building new towns across Hyrule. So many people live _at_ Stables, might as well give them some real homes with four walls, right?”

“That sounds like a noble idea. It must be much more feasible now that Hyrule Field is much safer to cross.”

“In fact,” Bolson said, tipping his chin down as though this were a secret he were about to impart to Zelda, “they’re so safe that I might even pursue my lifelong dream…of rebuilding the Castle Town!”

He must have seen the sparkle in Zelda’s eye, for his own face lit up with excitement. “Can’t you imagine? Beautiful riverside homes, with a grand view of all of Hyrule spreading out around them—real estate would be cheap. You could have a huge house for nothing! And I could build so many of them that they’d meet any demand!” He sighed happily. “And Bolson Construction stamped on every cornerstone!”

“It’s a _marvelous_ dream,” Zelda agreed. “Your signature houses would certainly spread some cheer in the area.”

“Wouldn’t they? Oh, Zelda, now I see how you could inspire a man to trek across all of Hyrule for you!” Bolson spun on his heel. “I must head back to my blueprints! You’ve really ignited a fire in my bones.”

Zelda waved him off, a goofy smile beginning to grow across her face. She had a feeling that she had just initiated the rebuilding of Hyrule rather unintentionally, and it thrilled her.

Link leaned out the window above her. His hair was mussed, and his eyes could barely crack open in the light of day. “Zelda,” he groaned, “what d’you wanna eat?”

She laughed and skipped back inside to meet him.

 

They found a korok underneath a stone just below the bridge by their house. Zelda lifted the giggling Korok mask to stare at the little creature and its waving twigs. “Hello, little one!” she cried.

“Mr. Hero!” the korok gasped. “It’s _her!_ You found _her!”_

Link chuckled. “Yes, and she found you,” he replied.

The korok tottered on its pointy feet like it were about to faint. “I can’t believe it!” it cried. “The Deku Tree was right! Your smile is _great!”_

They climbed back out of the ravine and went into town to replenish Link’s stock of arrows and rice. When they left the shop, Link paused on the doorstep, ears perked. “Come with me,” he whispered, and they snuck around the left side of the shop. He led her by the hand to a bunch of crates on the right side of the shop, and he pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for Zelda to listen.

“Nebb says Link showed him the Sword that Sealed the Darkness. Fancy that! I wonder if having an adventurer around is what stirred them all up.”

“You know, I heard a swordsman and a woman dressed in white road through Dueling Peaks with news that the Calamity had fallen. The _same_ _day_ Link came back to town with his pretty girl.”

“My husband says her name is Zelda. Like the princess!”

“Wouldn’t it be nice? To think, they’d come to roost in Hateno!”

The women chattering by the communal laundry trough giggled.

“Maybe we should bring them a pie, like a welcome gift, if they’re gonna be our permanent neighbors.”

Zelda gave Link a wide-eyed look, and he rubbed his belly appreciatively. She had to stifle her laugh in her hands.

“I haven’t seen her yet. Is she really pretty enough for that boy?”

“That boy is prettier than anything I’ve ever seen. Prettier than _me_ , hon, that’s for sure.”

Zelda squeaked behind her hands, but she could have screamed with laughter at the look on Link’s face. “Pretty vai,” she whispered devilishly to him, and he snatched her hand and dragged her away from the gossip station quickly.

They remained in the shadows and kissed, briefly, but both of them were snickering too much. “Where should we go next, pretty girl?” he asked, and she felt her heart flutter. “Should we continue our quest? Visit the Deku Tree? Run away to Lurelin?”

“I…” Zelda really liked the idea of running away to the fishing village where she was _certain_ no one had ever heard her name. “I think you’re right, Link. I think I should be visiting more of my kingdom in person. Do you mind if we don’t use the Slate for a bit, as much of a miracle as it is?”

Link’s face lit up. She should have known he wouldn’t be adverse to traversing the wild with her. “Of course. Where would you like to go?”

“We should probably go to the Domain. But that’s just a direction.”

He nodded. “Through Dueling Peaks or Kakariko?”

“We can decide along the way.”

 

They reached Fort Hateno at lunchtime. Zelda had tied the Korok Mask to her saddle, and they decided to stop there when the mask began to quiver with delight. They discovered an innocuous pinwheel that turned out to trigger several small acorns to jump out of the trees ahead of them. Link said it was an archery test, and sure enough, after he’d burst all the acorns with his well-aimed arrows, the korok responsible appeared.

They continued on through the afternoon. Zelda told Link of her dream of a field of Silent Princesses, but he would not tell her if he had seen any on his travels. She knew that he was hiding something from her, but she did not mind.

As they passed through Kakariko (and found several more koroks on the way), they caught an amazing view of Hyrule from Sahasra Slope. Zelda stopped and stared in awe at her kingdom. It had looked green from Spectacle Rock, but she hadn’t realized—hadn’t fully appreciated—how _lush_ her land was.

She could see the pink of the Deku Tree in full bloom to their north, and the silhouette of Vah Medoh west of it. The castle was dark in the middle of it all, no longer surrounded by swirling Malice and evil…merely cold, and dead. A reminder that, although Ganon was gone, there was still so much for them to do, so many painful memories that they must bear.

Link hummed something as they continued down the slope toward the main road once again, and Zelda recognized it from the depths of her memories. It was the lullaby her mother had sang for her as a child; she had forgotten it, in her somber adolescence.

Link’s voice was low, but she could hear the silvery promise of it. She had never heard him sing before, but she suddenly wished to find an excuse to request it.

“Where did you hear that?” Zelda asked him.

“The Sword, most recently,” Link said. “She…feels it…whenever you’re around. She plays it forward and backwards.”

Zelda frowned momentarily. She could no longer hear the voice in the Sword as she had that fateful night. But as they continued on their way to Lanayru, Zelda felt the weight in her heart lessen. She was surprised to admit it, but she could accept it. She was doing everything she could to restore her power and her kingdom. Link, the Goddesses, even her _father_ had faith in her.

They stopped at the Wetland stable just to hear the news of the day. It seemed that everyone had noticed the Sheikah taking up guard outside Hyrule Castle, and many—including Traysi, judging from the latest edition of the Rumor Mill posted on the wall—wondered if the princess had returned. “I thought it was a bunch of hocus pocus,” a traveler said, “but I’m beginning to wonder, y’know? Good things have happened lately. Maybe it’s all a sign.”

“Say, those are some fancy horses you have out there. Where’d you get that livery?”

Lanayru and Prayer were indeed very fancy. Lanayru wore his royal livery as well as any royal stallion, and Prayer was dressed like a legend herself. They made quite the pair—and Zelda was proud of them, but she wasn't sure how wise it was to flaunt their identities like that.

Link and Zelda hurried on. They wanted to reach Inogo Bridge before the electric keese came out. 

As they skirted the Lanayru Wetlands, Zelda was shocked to see that the Goponga Village had all but disappeared from their plane of existence. Hardly any ruins were left that she could see. She stared in horror as they passed Mercay Island, and she wondered if Link even knew that a village had once been there.

They camped that night on the Travel Gate of Soh Kofi’s Shrine, for there was no sign of rain, and the night was warm. Zelda hugged her knees to her chest and looked down the cliff at the horses; they had left them to graze down below without tying them off. “They were wild things,” Link had said. “They’re stronger than any boko, and they’re savage. They’ll kick anyone they don’t trust. They’ll be fine.”

“That song,” Zelda said as they cuddled together on their shared bedroll. “My mother sang it as a lullaby. I never knew it was more than that.”

Link had been idly rubbing her shoulders, but now his hands stilled. “It’s ancient,” he murmured. “It’s as old as we are, from a land in the sky. Those days are the hardest to remember, but Fi forgets nothing.”

Zelda strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear the Sword if it spoke or sang or otherwise.

“I could…sing it for you.”

She held her breath as she looked across at him. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes were firmly on the sky. “I would like that,” she said softly, and tucked her head against his chest to hide her wide smile.

 _“Oh, one of youth:_  
_Goddesses guide you,_  
_Light lead you…_  
_Unite surface and sky._

 _When darkness falls,_  
_may Courage guide you._  
_Love will meet you;_  
_bring the light to land.”_

Link’s thoughts drifted as he sang his princess to sleep. His memories of the Sword were clearest of all—and some of the most difficult. Fi did not always understand why he reacted so to what she showed him, but particularly in that life, saying goodbye to the Sword had been a pain he had not known previously. He had thought her forever-sleep would separate them for _forever_ ; he had had so little to ground himself on, no history to draw upon, then.

 _Master_ , she said as tenderly as the Spirit of the Sword could. _I, too, am thankful the Goddess has always seen us reunited._

When Link sensed Zelda was beginning to drift away, he allowed himself to whisper what he had been thinking all along: “I can’t wait for you to remember how it feels to _really_ fly.”

 

They reached the Domain on foot. As they approached, Link seemed to become filled with a nervous energy. “There are a lot of people who remember us,” Link said. “There are people I met who have known me since I was a child. I don’t really remember them.”

But Zelda sensed there was something else on his mind, but she did not know how to question him. She simply followed him across the waterfall and into the Domain.

Link waved to Rivan, who was on guard duty. “I taught them swordplay when _they_ were children,” Link said to Zelda. “So they say.”

They found Sidon standing in the lower yard, looking up at Mipha’s statue. Zelda froze when she saw it. “Link,” she whispered, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“It’s okay,” Link assured her. “Sidon doesn’t remember anything. He would put no pressure on you.”

 _Exactly_ , Zelda thought, but she followed Link as he approached Sidon and called a soft greeting.

Sidon whirled around nearly knocking over a small Zora child. “Link! You’ve returned!”

Zelda watched bemusedly as the giant Zora and her tiny knight locked elbows in some sort of greeting, grinning at each other. “My father and I watched from the Domain as you fought the Calamity, and—” He seemed to realize something, and he looked over Link’s head at Zelda. His shark eyes widened. _“And the Sealing Power of the princess!”_

Zelda waved, suddenly shy. “Hello, Sidon. You are _much_ bigger than I recall.”

He gave a great belly laugh and a sweeping bow. “It _has_ been one-hundred years, princess!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: thank you for 3000 hits and 130 kudos! we've beaten When the Wind Whispers (which is even better than this I promise please go read it.... it'll also make some more things make sense here).
> 
> thanks! keep leaving your thoughts in the comments :) I read every one


	26. Expectations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer this time. :)

Link quickly realized that despite Sidon’s bluster, there was something…off about his scaly friend. Sidon did not leap forward to clasp Zelda’s hand, as Sidon was wont to do. Instead, he stood with his hands behind his back, shoulders back, extraordinarily proper, and inclined his head toward Zelda.

“Your Grace, may I be the first Zora to thank you for all that you have done for Hyrule. I must apologize in advance: though Link has earned some good-will in his short but heroic stay in the Domain, many Zora who recall the Calamity do hold a grudge against your people.”

“I understand, Prince Sidon,” Zelda said, clasping her hands in front of her in what Link recognized as their resting state when she was acting _princessly_. “I too have gone through a similar grieving process.”

“Princess of Hyrule, my father has been waiting for your arrival ever since Link revealed to us your survival. I’m sure he would like to welcome you with utmost warmth. Follow me?”

Zelda nodded and cast a look at Link that he could not read. It was partially obscured by her placid, royal mask, but Link would have guessed that maybe it was panic.

“Princess of Hyrule!” Dorephan boomed the moment they came into view at the edge of his throne room. “I give thanks to the Goddesses that you are well. When Link appeared here to save the Domain from Vah Ruta’s endless flood, I wondered if I could hope to see you again in this life.” He gave her a gentle smile. “What do you think of your kingdom, Princess Zelda?”

Zelda looked up at the Zora King with a sad smile. “It is far emptier than the kingdom I left,” she said. “It truly pains me. But Link has shown me how, in many ways, the kingdom has actually grown in my…captivity. Hyrule’s people are resilient, and life grows in the ruins.” She cast another glance at Link who, instead of taking his place three steps behind as he might once have done, stood beside her as an equal before the king.

Dorephan hummed deep in his mighty throat. “Wisely spoken, Your Grace. Indeed, while some see great destruction, I too have seen what you describe. I am glad to see you filled with hope—tentative though it may be.” He cleared his throat. “Link, I am also glad to see you once more. The last time you stood before me, I could see in your face that I, and indeed the Zora and our Domain, were foreign sights. How has your memory fared?”

“I have regained some of it,” Link said. “It’s still patchy.”

“But you have reunited with the Sword of legend, and I recognize in the way you stand that you have secured a power far beyond what you possessed a century ago.” Link bowed his head in gratitude. Dorephan addressed them all now. “My dear Mipha came to me in a dream soon after you freed Vah Ruta, and she told me of the greatness to come. She said that we will see Hyrule restored to its former glory—and we will surpass it, as long as the Zora and Hylians maintain the old treaties. Is that why you have come?”

Link was about to launch into an explanation of their quest, but Zelda beat him to it: “Yes,” she said. “I required rest after my battle with the Calamity, but even in my fatigue I was restless. I am eager to restore these relationships, though I have no government or messengers or knights—besides my Champion—to carry them out.”

Dorephan’s eyes were warm. “I understand, Your Grace. For now, your pure intentions are enough to satisfy this Zora. In the meantime, if there is any service my people and my kingdom may provide to you, you will have it. I know it will be a long process for you and Hyrule, but the Zora are long-lived. In but a blink of our eyes, I know we will return to the equal partnership of the Zora and the Crown of Hyrule.”

He gestured with one mighty fin at Sidon. “You have met my son, Sidon. He will most likely lead any restoration effort on our part, so I suggest that all of you get better acquainted.” They understood that they were dismissed, but the king had one last word for them. “Welcome back, Zelda.”

Zelda bowed.

 

“Sidon,” Link said as they descended the stairs back to the lower courtyard. “Something is on your mind.”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me, my friends, but I have been hiding several things from my father, and such deception weighs on me.” The prince looked up at his sister’s immortalized form. “I discovered Mipha’s diary shortly after the Calamity fell, and soon after that, I began to notice strange things in the mountains…signs that Mipha herself noticed before the princess—I mean, you—came to ask her to pilot Vah Ruta.”

Zelda nodded. “Her Trials, you mean.”

The Zora prince looked at her in surprise. “You are not surprised, then?” He glanced at Link, then nodded. “So the timing of your arrival is not a coincidence.”

“Our Goddesses have given me a final task: to walk in the footsteps of my fallen Champions, to understand their lives and their…their deaths…and to name new pilots for each Divine Beast.” Zelda stepped closer to Sidon. “I have already taken on the Trials of Vah Naboris and the Gerudo Champion, and I restored control of the Divine Beast to the Gerudo people. I would like to do the same with Vah Ruta.”

“My prince!”

Link winced. So did Sidon.

“Sir Muzu,” Zelda said in greeting. “I have heard of your instrumental role in freeing Vah Ruta from the Calamity’s grasp.”

Muzu’s mouth hung open. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat at her flattery. Link and Sidon exchanged a shocked look. They had both faced his stubborn old fins and struggled, but the princess seemingly had him cowed in a sentence.

“Ah, well, I…” Muzu cleared his throat. “Truly, I only kept the memory of Lady Mipha alive in my heart. If that has done anyone good, then I am happy of it. But… Princess Zelda, do you mean to suggest appointing a Zora as Champion? What need is there for such a dangerous role?”

Zelda held up her hands. “I name a _pilot_ , not a Champion,” she said pointedly. “I mean only to restore the rightful ownership of each Beast to their people. There need not be any danger associated with it, for the Calamity has fallen, and no enemy remains in this world my personal Champion and I cannot face.” She smiled briefly at Link, and it sent a thrill through him to see her navigate this series of such difficult conversations with more and more confidence. “I do this as an offering of good will and faith only—to the Golden Ones, and to my allies.”

Muzu seemed to like the sound of that, but it was Sidon who seemed reluctant. “The thing is,” he said, “I too have seen my sister in a dream. She held out to me a strange helm, like that of Ruta’s head. I believe I may also be required to walk in her footsteps. Is that possible, Your Grace?”

“Of course.” The tension in Zelda’s shoulders eased. “Link and I would appreciate the company, and it would go a ways to proving to the Goddesses and your sister—and yourself—that you have what it takes. In fact,” Zelda said, turning back to Muzu, “I would welcome your oversight, Sir Muzu. Uncovering these Trials is a Trial in its own right, and, seeing as out of all of us, you remember Mipha best, you would be a great resource.”

Link couldn’t help it. His jaw dropped to the floor. Muzu was _blushing_. It was _blue_ , as was the color of their blood, but it was recognizable nonetheless. Sidon seemed just as amazed. “Miracles abound,” he murmured.

“I would be honored, Your Grace.” Muzu bowed. “And, Sidon, I do understand your desire to keep such a thing from your father. However, I think you sell yourself and your father short. He would be nothing but proud of your decision to follow in your sister’s footsteps.”

Sidon bowed his head. “Of course, Muzu.”

Link understood what Muzu didn’t, in that moment. His father’s pride was the _problem_.

“I think we’ll take some time to wander the Domain before setting off, Muzu,” Link said quickly. “Should we find you when it’s time?”

“Of course.” Muzu bowed and retreated, and Link rounded on Sidon as soon as the courtier was out of earshot.

“Sidon, what’s really bothering you about all this?” he asked.

“Oh, Link,” Sidon said, putting his hands up as though fending off an attack. “I’m sorry that you have come when I am in such a melancholy mood. It really is nothing.”

Link crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. Somehow, the pose was as humorous as it was threatening. “Friends lean on one another when something weighs us down. We’re friends, right?”

Prince Sidon seemed taken aback. “W-why yes, Link. I believe so.”

“Link is right,” Zelda said helpfully. “And I know we just met, but I promise, I will not pass any judgment on you for how you are feeling.”

“Thank you, Your Grace…”

“You can just call me Zelda.” She waved her hand. “Please. I allow your father and Muzu to call me that because they’re old.”

Sidon chuckled. “Thank you, Zelda, then. To be quite honest, since the fall of the Calamity, the king has mentioned several times that he would like me to take the lead…well, leading the Domain.” He sighed. “I admit I’m fairly confident in my knowledge of etiquette and the logistics of being a leader, but it is the expectation that I will be my sister that worries me. Muzu, my father, many of my people remember her and speak of what the Domain would have become had she been here to lead it.”

Link had thought as much. He was having a little deja vu from his conversation with Paya and wondered if it was the season for intergenerational conflict. He was starting to think he should just find Traysi and have her publish a manifesto in his name about the merits of  _disappointment_.

“Well,” Link said finally, “you can try to be her, and fall short, or you can dedicate yourself to _being_ _yourself_ and show everyone what they’ve been sleeping on.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Zelda raise a hand halfway to her mouth to hide a small smile. “Ask Zelda. I know all about not being the person someone else wants you to be. But it worked out just fine once I decided to just live my life how I wanted to.”

Sidon’s lips parted in wonder as the weight of Link’s words sank in. Then, he began to smile. It wasn’t his signature, sharky Sidon grin, but it was certainly a good sign.

“May I add…the burden of others’ expectations can be unbearable. It really drives all the light from your world. And I went through such an ordeal to bring Light _back_ to the world, I’d appreciate it very much if you didn’t cast it out now.”

Sidon was rendered a mute, blushing, flustered mess at Zelda's teasing tone, and Link guffawed a little at his princess and the prince’s antics.

Then, his stomach rumbled. “Sidon, I think we’ll be here for a while, if our time in Gerudo Town is any indication. While I’m here, has there been any trouble around the Domain I should know about?”

Sidon nodded quickly. “The lynel—or perhaps another lynel, I’m not sure—has taken the mountain back again.”

Link gave him a thumbs-up. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “Zelda, can I…”

She waved him off. “I’d love to read what Mipha has noted about her trials, Sidon,” she said. “And, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to see if any of my old clothes remain in your guest chambers?”

“Ah, of course! I would be happy to escort you.”

Zelda smiled up at Sidon, then turned so that only Link would see the dark look on her face. “If I hear that the lynel has gotten the best of you again, Captain,” she said in a warning tone.

He took a step toward her, intending to sweep her into a silly kiss of promise, but he was stopped by Mipha’s somber gaze from above.

It was going to be an awkward reunion.

 

_At the request of Hyrule’s king, a group of outsiders came to greet us at the domain. Many of them were young knights, but one of them was young even for Hylian standards. He said that he was only about four years of age. His name was Link._

_He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way?_

_Certainly, one thing that sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises. Wishing to be helpful, I healed him._

_It must have been his first time seeing healing magic, as he looked up at me with big, round eyes. It was…adorable._

 

Zelda suddenly felt that perhaps she should not be reading this. She had read Urbosa’s because, as Riju likely knew, the entries were entirely about herself. It seemed less like peeking into someone else’s head and more…reading a sentimental letter from an old, dear friend.

But this. Zelda could hear the words in Mipha’s own voice, and it felt as though the Zora Champion would open the door and greet her at any moment. She felt strange addressing Sidon as an adult and an equal, and indeed, waited for Mipha to join into their conversations—which she never would. Never again.

Zelda knew she would eventually figure out the Trials of Vah Ruta’s pilots, even without Mipha’s diary. Zelda knew she could just skim, not absorb, all the diary entries until she found something that seemed related to the business at hand.

Zelda kept reading. There were so many entries about fish, and about Sidon’s growing egg, and the small scrapes Mipha healed wherever she went, that she began to feel less guilty for the intrusion. The daily life of a Zora princess was quite intriguing from a logistical standpoint.

 

_Father has agreed to allow Hyrule to send their trainees to us for a few months every rainy season to prepare for life out in the elements and to learn the art of the spear from our masters. I’m delighted, as are many in the Domain, for that means young Link will return to us often. He has truly made quite the impression on us all in his short time here. He is not the strongest swimmer, but he is willing to meet any challenge, and he generously teaches swordsmanship to anyone who asks._

_I look forward to seeing what he is capable of!_

 

Zelda had heard these stories from Urbosa in slant, as facts, and some she had known herself: Link had been the youngest soldier in Hyrule’s history. He was a prodigy with any weapon he picked up and a quick study. Zelda remembered when they relaxed their official law about child soldiers to allow Link to participate as a trainee.

He had always been special, but on the periphery of her awareness, until he appeared with the Sword. Then—then she had recalled how special he had always been, and she had hated him.

It was strange to hear it all from Mipha.

_A Divine Beast was excavated from Zora’s Domain. Father has named this one Vah Ruta._

_The first time I laid eyes on Ruta, I was surprised by how cute she was. It’s so big and round, with a long, awkward nose._

_According to the Sheikah who discovered her, Divine Beasts require someone worthy to control them. It’s fun to imagine someone piloting this enormous beast in the distant past. I wonder who will have that honor next._

—

_Link came to visit the Domain. It feels like forever since he was here last. He no longer resembles the child I first met. He is no longer a trainee but rather an accomplished knight and keeper of the Sword that Seals the Darkness. I am so proud. However… He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed._

_I asked him if something had happened, if something was wrong. He merely shook his head. Perhaps it is his newly acquired height, but I feel he is ever looking past me, into the distance beyond…_

—

_The princess of Hyrule paid a special visit to the domain. She asked me if I would agree to pilot a Divine Beast. She told me she needs my help to face the Calamity. My heart knew at once what to do. I agreed without reservation._

_Calamity Ganon must not be resurrected. If he is, there is no way to ensure the safety of my people, or of anyone. I do not know what will happen. All I know is that if there is anything I can do to help, I must try._

_I must protect Hyrule._

_There is also that…the Divine Beasts are meant to assist the chosen hero when he faces Ganon. In this way, I can help Link._

_—_

_Link came to visit me. It had been ages. I told him the lynel of Ploymus Mountain has been terrorizing everyone lately. When I said that, he started walking toward the mountain without a word. Spellbound, I followed him there._

_He told me to turn back. He insisted he would be fine on his own. I stubbornly stayed and followed him all the way up the mountain._

_He once again told me to turn back, but I argued. While we were distracted, the lynel attacked us from behind! I was sure we had met our end._

_How silly of me to doubt._

_With a sure hand and a fierce gleam in his eye, Link unsheathed the Sword that Seals the Darkness and defeated our foe. His swordsmanship was swift and graceful. I was…fascinated by the beauty of his movements. The last beautiful move Link attempted on the mountain was some sort of spinning attack. I have resolved to master it with my spear._

_Though I should have been terrified, I could not help but feel safe in the presence of my dear friend._

_His kindness and determination to help those in need… His strength and skill… My heart is drawn to his._

_I am doomed._

 

Zelda closed the diary and tried to collect herself. She had been right. _She had been right._ Link and Mipha were close because they had known each other since he was a child, but Mipha looked at him with _love_. True love.

It was as though the constellations had revealed themselves to her, and something in the world slotted into place. _Mipha was in love with Link._ And love was what powered her healing magic. _That’s_ what she had been trying to tell Zelda. That’s what had drawn Link back to the Domain on his single solo trip of their partnership.

Zelda looked up at the ceiling desperately. This was going to be a difficult stay in the Domain, if anyone knew of this secret.

 

_I woke this morning to a voice calling me to the mountains. I followed it, certain that it had some divine source. At the base of the water fall, I found a glowing ring of blue light…and at once I knew what to do._

_When I finished the race, the strangest thing happened. The water I stood in glowed white, and I was encased in that light. When it faded, I felt that my healing magic had grown stronger._

—

_The voice called to me again today, well before sunrise. It told me to follow the path of light._

_I had no idea what that could possibly mean. Lost in thought, I wandered the Domain until I came to sit on the cliffs looking out at the sea. I have always wondered what lies across it…and then, as the sun rose, I saw something: a glowing portal so far in the distance, I thought I might never reach it._

_But I did! I had not known I possessed such strength. Perhaps I will be able to help Link in his battle more than I had previously thought._

—

_I faced my last test from the gods. Their blue eyes are their weak point. It is difficult to reach things that fly with my spear… I have never wanted to hunt for birds in the sky, but perhaps I should practice, if these things can fly._

—

_Father has finally given his blessing for me to pilot the Divine Beast. The threat of the Calamity can no longer be ignored. Father said the Zora must play their part._

_He seemed on the brink of tears when he made me promise to return unharmed. My eyes burned with tears as well._

_I simply nodded. Seggin could hardly look at me. Muzu left partway through the discussion. I feel awful for putting them through this, but I have been called to this by powers beyond my control—and I must do what I can to help Link and his people. I could never forgive myself otherwise._

_Father has also given me his blessing to gather materials for the armor. He warned me that the process can be painful, but I believe it will harden the vulnerable scales over my heart._

—

_Today was the inauguration ceremony at Hyrule Castle. It was an honor to take part. However… Honestly, I do not remember much about it, but only because something unforgettable happened afterward. I experienced something wondrous, a beautiful moment in time I shall treasure forever. I am so grateful to the princess for agreeing to my request, and to Daruk for…um…well, for bringing me closer to Link._

_I did hear something that shocked me enough to almost overshadow that happy moment._

_Link has been chosen to guard the princess wherever she goes. They shall…be spending much time together…alone…_

_I regret not speaking my mind to him on Ploymus Mountain._

 

Zelda’s heart ached for her friend, for the sweet Zora woman who had been such a voice of compassion and kindness among their small collective. She had _never_ even hinted that Link’s time with Zelda hurt her, not in the slightest. Mipha had risen above it all and treated her just as she always had: as a friend and an equal.

There were tears in her eyes when she finally managed to read the last entry. She knew how this story ended.

 

_I finally completed that special armor for Link. I am confident it will fit him perfectly. He is coming to the Domain soon. I hope to give him my gift when I see him, but…should I? According to the old legend, long ago a Zora princess fell in love with a Hylian swordsman. Perhaps there is hope. But…_

_This will be a rare occasion that Link is not accompanying the princess of Hyrule. We should have some time to ourselves, and whatever happens, I have sworn to enjoy it._

_Oh, what an idea: at sunset, I shall ride upon Ruta with Link and speak my heart. Zora princess of legend…please lend me your courage!_

 

Zelda ran her fingers across the delicate scrawl of her deceased Zora Champion and wondered what went wrong. She had made the traditional armor Zora princesses gave to their chosen, their promised. She had gone through all the time and effort and yes, probably pain, of plucking her own scales and gathering the silver and luminous stones.

Why hadn’t she given it to him, after all of that?

And where had the armor gone?

Oh, Goddesses, what would she _say_ to Mipha when they would doubtlessly be reunited during the final Trial?

“I found a priest, Zelda!”

Zelda looked up from Mipha’s diary just in time to see Link skid through the door to the royal apartment. He was dripping wet and positively radiating excitement. “I sent him off to Akkala already and told Hudson to send word here when they’ve set a date!”

Zelda did her best to sound enthusiastic, but her mind was still reeling from the revelations contained in the tiny book resting on her knee. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “And the lynel?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Link closed the door behind him and began to shed his armor. He had worn his Champion’s regalia, black rubber leggings and boots, and a strange paint on his face. The paint was red and blue: three streaks of red on each cheek, and a strange blue symbol on his forehead under his fringe. He had clearly chosen each aspect of his outfit for a reason, but Zelda could only guess that it was for pragmatic reasons and not purely for the sake of (questionable) fashion.

Link’s squeaky rubber shoes thudded against the far wall and fell into the corner, and then he tore off the rest of his clothes and searched for a towel. Zelda watched him in amusement as he shook his hair like a dog and sent tepid water flying everywhere—along with some lake plants.

“So you killed a lynel and found a priest, but why are you _soaking_ wet?”

Link grinned. “I pushed the lynel off Shatterback Point,” he said, “and I had to collect its gear.” His tone told her that, surely, it was the most obvious thing in the world. He closed the distance between them and put a hand on either side of her against the back of the couch. She realized now that his breaths still came in sharp intakes through his nose; high on adrenaline, no doubt.

She set aside Mipha’s diary and placed her palms against his chest. She found his skin icy to the touch and still a little damp. His hair dripped down his shoulders, still tangled with some lake weeds. “Link,” she said, “I need to ask you something.”

It was as though something shattered behind his eyes. His gleeful expression had not changed, but she sensed that she had touched whatever had been preoccupying him since arriving at the Domain.

“Princess.”

“Did Mipha ever give you Zora armor?”


	27. Honesty and Deception.

Zelda could see the cogs in Link’s brain running at high speed as he tried to come up with something to placate her. But she didn’t want to be placated.

“Yes or no, Hero.”

“No,” he said.

As she suspected—

“But.”

Zelda raised her eyebrows. What was _‘but’_ supposed to mean?

Link straightened up and went to fetch his bag from where he had tossed it. He did not say a word as his hands sank deeper and deeper into the pack, then returned with a carefully folded blue and silver bundle. He returned and sat on the couch beside Zelda, the Zora armor held in his lap.

“Oh,” Zelda said.

“Dorephan gave me this to face Ruta.” His eyes were focused on the Zora emblem strung onto the sword belt that Mipha had made for him. His fingers did not fidget with it, but he radiated nervous energy. Zelda observed it all, and she wondered what in the world he was truly thinking. His face, which had been so much more open to her in recent months, had been replaced with a familiar, stoic mask.

“When I came here, Dorephan told me who I was and who I had been to him, and to Mipha. Just laid it out at my feet. He told me I was almost family.” Link closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, the only sign of how difficult it was to speak of the matter. “I don’t remember _any_ of it. And when I saw her on Ruta, I didn’t say anything. I wore her armor, and yet neither of us said anything about it.”

Her own hands shook a little as she offered the diary to him, but he didn’t look at it. They were silent for a long moment. Then, Zelda took his chilly hand and wrapped it in both of her own to impart at least some physical warmth, if not more.

But Link shivered instead. The silence that had fallen between them seemed to bother him. “I know that I knew. But I don’t know why she never went through with it. There’s the possibility that she knew where my heart lay, which just…adds insult to injury.” He leaned back, tilting his head forward to stare at the floor with glassy eyes. “If I still haven’t remembered her, and I never returned her feelings, and I show up _with you_ but the Goddesses dress me in _her_ armor…”

Zelda did not know what to say. Mipha would have known that, regardless of Link’s feelings for Zelda or Zelda’s feelings for Link, such a relationship would have been impossible under the eye of Hyrule’s king. A Zora princess and a Hylian knight would have been widely accepted. So it had to have been purely out of consideration for Link’s feelings, and possibly Zelda’s, that Mipha prolonged her silence—even after her death.

She suddenly felt quite guilty for being alive, for being marginally happy. And she remembered _everything_. An apology rose up in her throat like bile, but she forced herself to keep it behind her teeth. She had wanted to know his pain, his sacrifice, and this was part of it: he had found out, through her, that he was the one who was saved, without remembering who had been lost…and he carried the guilt of knowing he was the Chosen One, and they were not.

It was not the first time Zelda had pulled heartbreak from Link’s lips and eyes, but now, unlike last time, Zelda felt she had transgressed. Perhaps it was merely her own discomfort that made her think so. Regardless, she could feel the turmoil in him, turmoil she had stirred up, and she would need to soothe it as best she could.

“You have really forgotten her,” Zelda said finally. “Mipha was a soft and kind woman, but she was tough and pragmatic as all leaders must be…in ways that I admired and wished I could emulate. She certainly wasn’t someone to be pitied, or protected. I think that…when we do meet her again, you both should speak your hearts, and trust that you care enough about one another to listen without judgment.”

Link glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, partly obscured by his unkempt hair. _“When_ , in one hundred years, did you gain such insight into the mortal psyche?”

“It is entirely your fault,” she proclaimed. “Take your own advice, Mr. Be-Your-Authentic-Self.”

He exhaled slowly. Perhaps she had succeeded in at least easing some of his tension.

“Dorephan thinks I would have accepted,” he murmured.

Zelda stared at him expectantly. Who cared what Dorephan thought? Even if it were true, that was then, and this was—

“I don’t think it would help your relationship with the Zora to…” His voice was rough with anxiety and regret for how his words would be interpreted, and, Goddess forgive her, Zelda nearly proved him right. She had to wrestle that jealous, petulant schoolgirl in her chest and swallow her pride and _breathe_ , as Link so often did, rather than speak.

She truly bristled at the thought that she should hide her relationship with Link now, after all they had gone through together, _for one_ another. But the diplomat in her, the ascetic in her, the _princess_ in her, knew Link was right. If Dorephan believed Link returned Mipha’s feelings and that he mourned her loss as a potential lover, it could possibly be insulting or at the very least painful to see Link cavort with another woman. And it certainly would not rest well with Muzu.

So Zelda agreed.

She did not expect Link to round on her as he did, with frustration written all across his features. He suddenly had her face in his hands, his grip tight enough to shock her. “I wish you didn’t,” he said fiercely. “I have done so much for Hyrule, I just want this—” he kissed her, as though to emphasize his ability to do so _whenever_ he wanted “—for myself, world be damned.”

Zelda wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his long, damp hair. She discovered more lake plants, but did her best to ignore them. Her heart cascaded with emotions that she could not hope to convey…but she’d try. “Believe me,” she said softy, “it will be difficult not to reach for you, not to sleep by your side, for a few days. But we won’t be long here, this time around. You’re not teaching me swordsmanship _from scratch,_ now.”

He chuckled weakly and buried his face in her shoulder. “So we’ll hide it.”

“Yes. From Dorephan and Muzu and the rest of the Zora. For now.” Zelda sighed and leaned her cheek against his hair. “But I do want you to be open with Mipha, if you do see her again. She was our friend, first and foremost.”

 

They reconvened with Sidon for supper and discussed what Zelda had found in Mipha’s diary—as far as the Trials went. “We need to find the monument in order to find where the race, and the path of light, and her final trial are located. But we know at least what the first two are.”

“It’s marked on your enchanted map, correct?” Sidon tilted his head at the Slate, which lay on the table beside them. “Then perhaps we could find it before it gets too dark. Then we could set out tomorrow for the first trial.”

“There’s one thing, Sidon,” Zelda said. “The race—I believe it may be up a waterfall. And for you, and as I hear, for Link, this is no trouble. But if the Goddesses have requested that I also follow Mipha’s path, then I need some way to ascend the falls as well. Is there anything besides Zora armor that would help me do so?”

The prince shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But perhaps it would satisfy the Goddesses for you to ride upon my back? Link has experienced it.” He smiled winningly at Link.

“It’s a very smooth ride.” Link shrugged and smiled.

Zelda blushed. “If you are completely sure, Prince Sidon,” she said, “we shall do it.”

The prince nodded. “Then let us set out at once and find the monument you spoke of!”

Zelda took one last bite and stood up from the table; Link followed more slowly—clearly, he wanted to finish the rest of his food.

“How much d’you want to bet me that Kass is there?” Link winked at Zelda.

“I don’t think I would ever be surprised by his auspicious presence ever again.”

They followed the map and reached the monument just as the sun began to set. Zelda’s boots were muddy, and she had scraped her palms while climbing, but she felt quite pleased with her ability to keep up with the giant Zora prince and her own adventuring Hero.

It seemed at first that Kass had _not_ appeared at the monument; though Zelda listened closely, she could not hear even the most distant sound of an accordion. In the silence, the Goddesses repeated to Zelda and Link what they had said at the Gerudo monument:

_We applaud you for coming here. The locations that will be revealed to you are of trials that will enhance the power you have awakened within. Do not let your guard down…_

“So that is the voice of the Three Goddesses?” Sidon asked in awe. “That is the voice my sister heard?”

“Most likely,” said Zelda.

“Greetings!”

Link gave Zelda a meaningful look. Kass had arrived with a flap of his wings and landed beside them. “I thought I misplaced the verse my teacher wrote about Champion Mipha, but at last I found it, and I knew I had to come here right awa—” He seemed to only just notice the towering red Zora, and his eyes widened. “Oh, Your Majesty! Good evening!”

“This is the bard?” Sidon’s eyes gleamed. “Master Kass, my friends have told me of your songs. I would love to hear what you have regarding my sister.”

Kass seemed suddenly shy, but he drew his accordion from his back and let it wheeze anyway. “My pleasure,” he said.

 

_“Reaching skyward from waters blue._   
_Ruta’s Champion, a heart true._   
_The hero’s power shall grow._   
_Seek the trials monuments show._   
_One, find what the light’s path shows._   
_Two, conquer the ancient foes._   
_Three, chase rings of the waterfall._   
_Champion, the trials call!”_

 

Sidon clapped. “That is exactly what was in my sister’s account of her trials,” he said. “Well done!”

“Masterful rhyming,” Link said, and Zelda honestly couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not.

Link wandered over to the monument to match up his bird’s-eye view of the Zora Domain with the images. “I can’t place this one,” he said. “Kass, have you seen this view on your travels?”

“I believe it is north of Zora’s Domain, in Upland Zorana.”

“Great,” Link said. “The waterfall we need begins at Mikau Lake. I’ve never been to these islands, but I know where they are.” He turned back to Zelda. “Nice little excursion. ”

“Well, perhaps it served dual purposes,” she replied, and smiled coyly in the direction of Kass and Sidon. Kass was telling the prince more about what his teacher had written about Mipha, and Sidon was eating it up gratefully. “Kass, Prince Sidon, perhaps the king would like to hear these songs and tales.”

“Ah, yes, of course! Pardon us, I believe we will be headed straight back.”

“Yes, I will follow you, Your Majesty.”

Sidon ran to the edge of the cliff and dove off into the reservoir, and Kass, after bowing to Link and Zelda, flapped off after him.

Link and Zelda stood by the monument for what felt like a very long time. “Where will you sleep tonight?” Zelda asked at last. He blinked at her very slowly, and she shrugged. Of course, he had always sat (and only sometimes slept) outside her rooms when they had traveled together one hundred years ago, long before sharing a bed was ever an option. “I thought I would ask anyway. Zora’s Domain is quite safe. You could sleep at the inn if you’d like.”

Link did not answer, but rather unhooked the Slate from his belt. “It’s about to rain, princess,” he said softly.

Zelda’s heart sank as she searched his face. Too much of his manner now—his voice, the dark shade in his eyes, the careful blankness of his face—reminded her of _then_. She tried to remember that this was temporary.

When she reached for his arm, he squeezed it tight against his ribs, and she smiled a little.

Temporary.

 

She bid Link goodnight at the door to her chambers, but she didn’t move immediately. She leaned against the door frame and watched him set up his station: it seemed he would not sleep, but he did have some extra treats laid out for himself. He had some glazed apples and honey candy. She wondered if he had made the candy himself or bought it somewhere. It seemed there were flakes of something green in it—perhaps mint?

“If you stare at me like that we might as well quit the charade,” Link said, without looking up from his pack.

One day, Zelda might not be so embarrassed to be caught looking at this man whose soul was tied to hers…but this was not the day. Blood rushed to her cheeks. “My apologies, Hero.”

Link straightened up and closed the distance between them. For one moment, Zelda’s heart beat in her breast as though I were trying to escape; their eyes met, and she wondered if she could survive waking up without them nearby.

“Princess.” He spoke softly, so no eavesdropper might hear. “Thank you for being so patient today.”

He reached past her for the door, but he was too close—intimately close. She clasped her hands over her heart reflexively, awash in his warmth. “I’m always happy to listen,” she promised.

Link closed the door.

 

Zelda dreamed of dreams.

This latest century had not been her first in stasis, wrestling with a Demon and waiting for her Hero. But the other times, she had not been powerful enough, _awake_ enough, to be conscious of her Hero’s journey. She had not been able to look out of her prisons, her protective comas, her chrysalises, to watch Link as he came ever closer to freeing her.

So she had dreamed, sometimes for many centuries.

 _She dreamed of a land so green, so lush with life, pristine and unmarred by industry or settlement. Her people lived among the Goddesses’ creation in harmony, a part of it rather than apart from it. They prayed to her and they danced for her—and she prayed for them, to her Mothers, and she danced with them, for the joy of it. There was endless music in her dreams. Harps and birdsong, the lullaby of rain against the earth and the wind through leaves. That was all she remembered of_ before _. The whisper of the wind, and the birdsong, and the taste of the air. Things had been different.._

_In stasis, Zelda always dreamed of Hyrule before Despair, before Hatred, before Greed. The Hyrule of Hylia._

_In her dream of dreams, Zelda heard a voice. A man’s voice, but so distant she could hardly make out the words, nearly obscured by the babble of brooks and the roar of waterfalls. The voice was familiar enough that she knew its tone, and she knew it was full of Despair._

“This land was created from the void, born wild, and was cultivated and corrupted. Perhaps it is time for it to become wild, and become a void, once more.”

_The same voice replied, but it also seemed to address Zelda herself._

“There’s still so much beauty in this world, _in spite_ of the evil that would corrupt it… There are good people who are hurting, and _we_ can help. Isn’t that worth waking up for?”

_Zelda was no longer dreaming._

_She barely remembered this moment. He had vanished from Hyrule, as he sometimes did when he went into Shrines, but then something had_ happened _. He had touched something that rippled through Time and Space and reached her, and it felt like her Mothers—but how could that_ be? _He was somewhere that was but wasn’t the Korok Forest, and this conversation she heard was and was not happening. It was faint because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t out loud, it wasn’t in her kingdom—for his soul didn’t_ belong _to her the way_ Hyrule _belonged to her, and this was a battle inside his heart._

“She could never disgrace her mothers…abandon her people… But _we_ can. It would be so easy to sleep and never wake. To shed this burden, to be free of the shackles of fate once and for all. To be free of cursed hope—and to set her free, as well.”

No! _She had wanted to shout, wanted to rip that doubt from his soul and set it on_ fire _. Those words were of a Despair that was not natural, that was so without Hope that just sensing it from a distance poisoned her._

 _And then—and then—! She did not know what happened, but suddenly, the Demon that enshrouded her began to rage. It threatened her, it tried to digest her, but she cast it away heedlessly. For, since his awakening, she had recognized Link, recognized his promise and his_ nature _, but now she realized what she had_ not _seen for so long. The Hero, fully realized, stepped back into Hyrule, and his soul burned bright with Courage, free of doubt, free of Despair, with no Malice in his heart._

**NO!** _roared the Demon, as Link threw off the shackles of Despair, and doubt, and Malice that had bound his soul to such bitterness for so long. If it could not sink its claws into the Hero any longer, then it would sink its claws into her in the meantime. She nearly drowned as it pulled her down into its darkness, but her heart was too full of joy. Though she could not reach past the Demon for now, she knew he had left the Korok Forest._

It is only a matter of time, _she assured the Demon, even as it tried to tear her soul apart._

 

Zelda woke with tears in her eyes. Her heart still brimmed with that faith and joy that had sustained her through that battle with the Calamity, and it made her lip quiver. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, but she remembered the _feeling_ of his self-hatred, that exhaustion, that Despair in his heart—there was no other word for the all-encompassing darkness that she had seen in Link’s soul. And he had overcome it all, for her.

To think that he sat outside her bedroom door, that he had so kindly offered himself up to her as a friend and confidant and teacher and lover, in the past month…without ever revealing the true extent he had grappled with his destiny.

Zelda took a deep breath and let it go very, very slowly.

 _I’m trying,_ she reminded herself. _I’m trying._


	28. Beware the Ancient Foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking a lot about Link's past and decided to outline a pre-Calamity fic that fits all my lore/When the Wind Whispers/Hero of the Wild headcanons.
> 
>  
> 
> **1/1/19: on a short break while I force myself to shake off the holidays and remember how to be productive lol**

When Zelda left her room that morning, she found Link nodding off right where she had left him. One thing had changed, however: his hair had been braided back away from his face and down his neck, and there were lotus flowers and vines seemingly _growing_ in the plaits.

He was immediately awake when she stepped through the door. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly. “What happened to your hair?”

His hand flew to the braids on either side of his temples, and he grinned. “There are some koroks around here I haven’t found. They like to remind me of that.”

He told her that Sidon had come by to request their presence at breakfast, and she should head along without Link—he would follow soon. She nodded and set off.

She and the prince had just sat down when Link joined them. It was all Zelda could do to keep a neutral face: he had changed into Zora armor, but his korok-blessed braids remained, and he was _quite_ the picture.

Zelda tried not to hate that Link looked so good in the Zora armor. He filled it out very nicely, and the combination of blue and silver looked marvelous on him. He had even come to own matching greaves, though their scales were supposedly from a dragon. Over breakfast, she caught herself imagining him in another combination of blue and silver—and gold, in royal Hylian garb—and had to reprimand herself. She tried very hard to simply ignore the armor entirely, and keep her eyes either on his face—which helped a little—or on Sidon’s, which made everything easier. He had a pleasing face, considering he wasn’t the same species as she was.

They ate quickly, for everyone was eager to begin the first Trial on their list. Zelda had put on Hylian travel gear in preparation for getting wet, for she remembered how cold some of the Domain’s waters could be even in summer.

“Once we get to the top of the falls, neither of you should wander further up the mountain,” Link said, more for Zelda’s benefit than Sidon’s. “I got rid of the lynel but I don’t know what might take advantage of the vacancy.”

They collected Muzu, and the four of them set out for Mikau Lake. They found, just as they had in the desert, that a blue archway was waiting for them. “We’ll have to pass through each arch at the same time, Sidon,” Link said. “They disappear immediately.”

“Well then, shall I slow down for you?”

Link snorted. “As if.”

“Well, this is a race,” Zelda said. “We should get started.”

Sidon knelt down to allow her to climb onto his back, using his armor for grips. She felt quite silly, especially when he stood up and towered over Link. “Ready?” Sidon asked.

“I’m ready,” Zelda said.

Link looked to Muzu. “Are you racing too?” he asked, only slightly teasing.

“No, I think I shall referee,” Muzu replied. “On your marks…get set…go!”

Zelda yelped as Sidon took two bounding leaps forward, then dove through the aura ring and into the deep water at the base of the falls. The water was just as cold as Zelda had expected it to be, but it still made her muscles clench nonetheless. Link followed Sidon as quickly, and then the two shouted as one and kicked off the rocky bottom of the lake.

What happened next, Zelda would have been hard-pressed to describe. She had seen Sidon and Mipha crest waterfalls, but to see it from the firsthand perspective—it was something else. She could hardly keep her eyes clear of the whitewater, but her ears caught the woops of excitement and raucous splashing as the men threaded in and out of the water.

Then—with a lurch that nearly threw her off the Zora Prince’s back, Sidon jumped out of the water and hung as if suspended in the air before gravity once again took hold. She had only a second to brace herself before they hit the water again.

Sidon’s rough shark skin scraped against her cheek, and then they were off again to the next set of rings and falls.

Zelda was laughing giddily by the end of it all, and when at last they landed on solid ground once more and it began to shake, she lost her land legs completely and fell to the ground. Link was immediately at her side, extending a helping hand.

The morning light caught the water in his hair and cast it gold. Drops clung to his long lashes and trickled down his cheeks.

He licked some off his lips and Zelda cursed herself.

Muzu had beaten them to the finish line. “You may have Lady Mipha’s own armor, but nothing beats a true Zora,” he said to Link. “The prince beat you by just a scale.”

Link chuckled and hooked elbows with Sidon in their custom greeting. “Congrats,” he said. “By a _scale.”_

“How do you feel, Sidon?” Zelda asked, brushing herself off. “Do you feel confident in your speed?”

He nodded and looked down the waterfall whence they had come. “I’m struck by one of the few memories of my sister that I have,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. “She taught me how to do this—to ascend waterfalls. After our mother died, my father was so busy that he didn’t teach me the vital lessons of being a Zora—it was Mipha…” He took a deep breath. “Friends, excuse me, but perhaps I…”

“We’ll be right back,” Link said, and activated the newly revealed shrine.

Zelda engineered a solution to the Mah Eliya Shrine, and she scaled the wall of the Shrine in but a few minutes. Link didn’t follow her. From the top of the Shrine Zelda called, “Link?”

“Throw me the Slate,” he replied. “I want to try something different.”  
Zelda watched avidly as he came up with an entirely different route of ascent—and found the hidden chest that contained a royal shield.

She extended a hand to help him up onto the last platform. “So interesting,” she mused, “that the monks would leave so much up to our own ingenuity.”

“There are some Shrines where I could tell the monks absolutely didn’t expect my solution,” Link said. “That’s the fun of it.” He offered her the shield he had found, but it was too heavy for her arm and too big for her stature. It was too big for his stature, but not for his might.

Mah Eliya granted Link the emblem of Ruta and congratulated his resourcefulness. Then, before the monk gave Zelda her invisible gift that would one day become Ruta’s Helm, Mah Eliya spoke to her directly:

_The dedication you have shown in overcoming these Trials speaks to a new age in Hyrule…and the awakening of the Goddess. Go forth, and bring peace with you…_

Zelda whirled on Link, her hands flying to his shoulders. “He praised my dedication!” she cried. “You heard that, right?”

She was surprised when he swept her into an embrace tighter than she thought the moment warranted. One hand tangled in her hair, pressing her against his shoulder, and the other pinned her to his chest.

"Oh?"

“I remembered the Spring of Power.” Link’s voice was soft and husky. “Everyone told you your dedication wasn't enough...and...I encouraged you to despair. But your dedication has _always_ been perfect. I'm glad they recognize it."

“Me too,” she replied softly, returning his embrace. But what would have been, and was meant as, a celebratory moment had soured, for she remembered that awful night at the Spring of Power vividly too.

_Nothing’s wrong with you. That’s the cruelty of it. We’re cursed, Princess. Don’t you remember?_

Recalling that moment at the Spring of Power gave her dream that previous night so much more meaning. It wasn’t his fall that had given Ganon’s Despair a foothold in his soul. It had been festering even before then—even one hundred years ago. He had died, and he had half-remembered himself, half-remembered her, and still managed to face down that doubt and fear and exhaustion…for her.

“Was this _meant_ to happen?” she asked suddenly, pushing away from him to look better in his eye. “Everything—even…”

“Dying?” Link’s face was carefully neutral, but there was a note in his voice that betrayed a tinge of bitterness. “The kingdom falling? Your century-long battle and all the defining tragedies of our lives? Yes. I think it _had_ to happen.”

Link stepped away from her to open the Slate and bring them back to the surface, but Zelda reached for his hand to still him. He had perfectly anticipated what she meant, and she had the sense that perhaps she had touched on a wound that had not yet quite healed.

When he met her eyes, they shone with frustration and sorrow. “It was all my fault,” he said, straining to keep his voice flat. “It was to teach me a lesson, to give me a chance to fall in love with Hyrule and you all over again, so that I could get rid of the evil I allowed into my own heart. You suffered so much, and everyone else…”

Zelda nearly wept. He had been comforting her for a month and assuaging her of her guilt, all while harboring his own? And she hadn’t even guessed it. Of all the pain she had imagined he held inside, _blame_ hadn’t even crossed her mind. The worst part was, Zelda knew he could be right. The Goddesses were older than kindness or forgiveness; fate had played enough with their lives already.

Her mind raced to find something, anything, that could lighten Link’s heart without dismissing the possibility of it all being just as he’d said.

“Hero,” she said gently. “I’m sorry you have been alone for so long…let us share this burden and forgive each other of it.” She reached up to touch his face, and he leaned into her warm palm without breaking eye contact. “We always suffer,” she reminded him. “Don’t torture yourself over what’s already passed in this life. We can only look ahead, Link, and I have hope. I see it in your eyes.”

“These are great points,” he murmured. “My heart still hurts.”

“Mine too.” She stood on her tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips, while she could. “I think that might be what living means.”

 

They joined Sidon and Muzu once again. He had found his smile again, and it seemed genuine. “I may not have a healing power to strengthen,” he said, “but I believe something in me _is_ stronger for having completed this race.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” the prince said, but he did not elaborate.

Muzu didn’t seem to realize that it was his presence that made the prince quiet. “Last night, I consulted our records in search of the ancient foes the Goddesses have referenced. I did not find who they were, but I did find tell of the battle in Upland Zorana of ten-thousand years ago. The age from which these records appear leads me to conclude they must be Guardians of some kind.”

Link seemed worried at the news. “Are either of you good marksmen?”

Sidon and Zelda shook their heads. “How will we face these Guardians?” Sidon asked. “How did _my sister_ face them?”

“Probably with her spear alone and grit,” Muzu said proudly.

“Yeah, we’re not going to do that,” Link said. “Sidon, do you prefer the sword or the spear?”

Sidon seemed very confused, but Zelda had intuited what Link’s plan was. _Brilliant_ , she thought. _He truly is a master strategist._ “I do take after my sister in that regard,” Sidon admitted.

“When will you be back?” Zelda handed Link the Slate.

“I should be able to meet you all in Upland Zorana.” Link had, indeed, opened the Slate and selected a location in Akkala, north of Tarrey Town. His fingers paused over the Travel button; he seemed to be sizing Zelda up for something. “I’ll give your regards to Robbie,” he said, and then disappeared.

“That always startles me,” Sidon murmured. “Princess Zelda, where has he gone?”

Zelda opened her glider as they turned back toward the Domain. “We have a friend who makes weapons designed for Guardians’ weak points. I believe he is fetching a spear for you, and a sword for me. Their weak point is their eyes, and if he can immobilize them or stun them even for a few seconds, the two of us can defeat them, surely.”

Muzu seemed to be in awe. “And Lady Mipha faced these creatures with naught but a spear,” he wondered aloud. “What strength she must have had.”

Zelda recalled the muted tone of Mipha’s diary entry concerning the trial and imagined that it had taken _all_ of her strength to conquer her ancient foes. “I would like to fetch my armor,” Zelda said. “It sounds we have quite the day ahead of us.”

 

Link found them just as they reached their general destination. He alighted right next to Sidon, dressed in his Ancient armor and diamond circlet. “See any of them yet?” he asked instead of a greeting.

Sidon was too busy staring at Link to answer. Zelda didn’t blame him. Link looked…princely, especially in the afternoon sun. The gold ornamentation on the sheath of his Sword burned like molten meal, as did the circlet in his hair. He seemed to recognize that he was being ogled, because his cheeks turned pink with more than simple exertion.

Muzu chuckled. “My, Link, you look like quite the Ancient warrior!”

The Hero didn’t reply. He instead knelt to search his pack, and he pulled out an entire spear from its depths. This only shocked and awed the others more. Link handed the spear to Sidon and showed him how to activate the wicked, glowing edge. He then approached Zelda with a sword the likes of which she hadn’t seen in his collection of Guardian weapons. This was clearly a Robbie signature.

“It’s this button here,” he said, illustrating. “How do you find its weight? I tried to have Cherry make it as close to your own as possible, but she doesn’t make swords like yours, exactly.”

“It’s different,” Zelda said, taking a step back and swinging the blade to feel it out. It made a strange sound as it cut the air, almost like a machine. She decided that she liked it, though still preferred her own ancestral weapon. She looked back at Link, and she suddenly realized how she must have looked when _she_ had stared at him last night. His blush deepened, and he buried his face back in his pack as though he were look for something else.

“Muzu, will you be joining us?” he asked. Zelda guessed she was the only one who heard the tightness in his voice.

Muzu snorted. “With these old fins?”

Sidon was still in awe. “These are weapons forged to fight Guardians?” He twirled his spear and reignited the aura. “It is so difficult to believe we once controlled those creatures!”

 _We could again,_ Zelda thought to herself. She knew better than to say such frightening things aloud near such traumatized friends. Instead, she unhooked her shield and looked to Link. “Captain, what’s our strategy?”

“Reconnaissance,” he said. “Skywatchers are different than Stalkers and different than Turrets.”

“Wait,” said Zelda. “Mipha wrote about her enemies being able to fly. Does that mean they’re Skywatches?”

"Must be."

“Have we seen Skywatchers?” Sidon asked. Link shrugged and opened the album on the Slate to find their entry in the Compendium, and Sidon’s eyes widened. “How in the world is anyone supposed to reach those? I may be tall, but even with this spear…”

Zelda glanced at Link. “Take out the propellers, I imagine.”

Link nodded. “You can use Stasis, and I’ll take out the propellers with bomb arrows. It’ll take a while—they get pushed away by the blasts and start floating away in their confusion—but once they’re down, it’s easy to avoid their lasers and hit them from behind.” He looked at the prince. “Sidon, does that sound alright to you?”

The prince nodded. “I trust the man in the Ancient armor about how to defeat Ancient foes,” he replied glibly.

“Then let’s find them.”

Link set the Slate’s sensor to Guardian Skywatchers and then handed it to Zelda for safe keeping. They set off at once, with Muzu following at a safe distance, probably to record their endeavors for history…with Sidon as the hero, of course. Zelda led the way, following the Sheikah Slate, until they reached a maze of hills and narrow valleys in which not only had Guardian Skywatchers taken up residence—a gang of moblins had also retreated there, and they weren’t happy to be found.

Link’s jaw clenched. “Avoid the Skywatchers at all costs and take out the moblins,” he instructed. Zelda and Sidon nodded, and they moved forward as a unit.

It wasn’t but a moment before they were separated by several moblins. Zelda faced a large white moblin covered in purple war paint, and she tried to recall the sensation that had overtaken her in the midst of the overwhelming force of the Yiga. She had trusted her body to do what it needed to do, trusted her blade to hold strong, and she had spun into battle unafraid. This was but one moblin—not sixty assassins—and all it wielded was a spiked club. Yet the feeling did not take hold of her. All she had left was the training Link had given her, and that wasn’t motivating her to move.

It would need to be something within her. Something like Courage.

Zelda took a deep breath, then released it in a harsh cry and leaped toward the moblin. Her teeth rattled as her sword sank into moblin flesh and tore through bone; the creature’s rank smell filled her nose, as well as the coppery scent of its blood. She gagged, acid in her mouth, but pushed herself to charge forward and face her next opponent.

When enough moblins had been dispatched to encourage the rest to flee, the battle was not over yet. They barely had time to regain their wits before a Skywatcher locked on to them. Its long column of a neck descended, and its gears whirred and clanged as it focused its laser on Prince Sidon.

“Zelda!” Link cried. She raised the Slate with shaking hands and caught the swinging Skywatcher in the bonds of Time. Link jumped off a ledge—when had he climbed up?—and in the split second before his feet touched the ground, he had gotten caused not one but two of the Skywatcher’s propellers to explode. The Skywatcher bobbed and sank in the air, much closer to the ground. “Get its eye!”

Sidon raced forward, spear at the ready, and lodged it fiercely into the Skywatcher’s brain. When he removed it, the Skywatcher’s mechanisms had clearly been damaged beyond repair, but not enough to stop it from firing its powerful lasers at random. Sidon executed an impressive somersault to dodge a blast and popped back up near Zelda. “You alright?” he asked breathlessly.

If Zelda opened her mouth to answer, she might vomit, so she remained silent and focused on staying out of the way of the Skywatcher until Stasis had powered up again. Once it did, she froze it and let Link take care of the last propeller.

As promised, the Skywatcher crashed with a tremendous cacophony of noise and sparks. Zelda and Sidon rushed forward to carve into its hull and get at its inner mechanisms. She had never worked with Skywatchers before—only the Stalkers—but she guessed that the glowing bit in the center between all its propellers was an entry point into its vital mechanisms. Sure enough, when she embedded her sword in it and twisted, the Skywatcher began to explode.

Hot metal, sparks, and bits of gears and screws showered Zelda and scalded her exposed skin, but Link pulled her from the debris a moment later and saved her from the worst of the blast. Her chest heaved with exertion, but his was calm, if a little deeper than usual. Sidon cheered in the background, but Zelda could mostly only hear an echoing ring in her ears.

“You alright?” Link asked, dropping her hand.

She inhaled sharply through her nose and let it out through her mouth. The taste of bile was only just beginning to subside. “How many more?” she asked.

Link smiled grimly, and the friends set off for the next ancient foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please lemme know in the comments what you think, what you expect, your theories, your personal headcanons, crack ideas, whatever! I'm really enjoying reading them :)
> 
> **1/1/19: on a short break while I force myself to shake off the holidays and remember how to be productive lol**


	29. Path of Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! It's been a while. This quarter is...a lot of work. Being in the headspace to do serious science, and teach serious science, and learn serious science, leaves little room for literary creativity. Hopefully I'll get back in the swing of this writing thing, but for now, here's a lil chapter.

Zelda stared down at the pile of smoldering Guardian parts that surrounded her with a blank expression that Link did not like. He sensed a turmoil beneath that carefully composed surface, and he worried that it might break through at any moment, with Sidon and Muzu present.

He turned from where he had been watching his princess and caught Muzu looking up at her as well.

“The princess is a new warrior, is she not?” the elderly Zora asked Link in a quiet voice. He nodded briefly in response. “I worry that she, like many new soldiers, put so much of her spirit into this battle that she may be left empty in the aftermath.”

Link understood, and he, too, worried about it. Yet he was not sure that that was what troubled Zelda. He watched as Sidon climbed up onto the small hill Zelda had isolated the Skywatcher on and where she had dealt the killing blow. The Zora Prince’s enthusiasm, usually so contagious, failed to stir his Hylian counterpart out of her reverie.

“Lady Mipha saw this often with our soldiers,” Muzu continued. “She found that a sip of an energizing elixir would always lift their spirits. I carry some with me at all times, in her memory.” Muzu withdrew a small vial of green elixir and handed it to Link. “May her memory continue to heal her friends, even now.”

The knight looked up at Muzu and tried to remember such details from his past—either as a warrior himself, or as a friend of Mipha’s, or as a leader of men—but he could not. It only made Muzu’s words more poignant, more somber.

He took the vial and approached Sidon and the princess. The Zora Prince’s spirits were flagging, seeing as how Zelda was neither smiling nor laughing at his jokes. Link felt poorly for it, but it would be best for all of them if Sidon were to leave. “Sidon, I’m worried that those moblins will come back once the princess and I go into the Shrine,” he said. “The princess and I can return directly to the Domain from inside it, but I don’t want to leave you and Muzu alone out here…”

Sidon blinked in surprise. “You truly are a brilliant tactician, Link,” he said. “Thinking like the enemy! Of course, Muzu and I will return at once to the Domain and send a patrol of our soldiers to clear Upland Zorana of any further danger.”

That wasn’t exactly what Link had meant, but if it meant that Zelda would have some space, then he would go along with it. The prince turned back to Zelda and bowed deeply. “I am honored to have fought alongside you, Princess Zelda,” he said. “You are a marvelous swordsman. Woman.”

Zelda finally turned her gaze up at him and seemed to recognize she was being spoken to. “I…greatly admire your way with the spear,” she replied in a muted tone. “Thank you for your valor in battle.”

The praise seemed to bolster Sidon’s spirits even more, and he whirled back to Link to drag him into the hooked-arm greeting they had established upon Link’s first visit to the Domain. Link tried to return it with enthusiasm, but his eyes were only on Zelda.  
Muzu and Sidon left quickly after that, but Link did not approach Zelda yet.

For a long moment, Zelda did not raise her gaze from the remains of the Skywatcher. They stood in silence; Zelda swayed a little, blinked slowly. Finally, she passed the back of her arm over her eyes, and with her face covered thusly, she took a deep breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “I spent so much of my life studying them,” she said at last. “The sight of them now fills me with such pain, Link, but…I _Ioved_ studying them…”

Link knelt to pick up an Ancient core from the pile of parts at her feet. Link wanted to tell her that what she said wasn’t true: there had been plenty of Guardians—the Skywatchers for instance, but also legions of Stalkers—that had never been excavated but had appeared when the Calamity woke nonetheless. He wanted to tell her that these things _had_ to happen. He wanted to tell her that they had _all_ thought the Guardians would help, would be their saving grace. He wanted to tell her exactly what she had told him: they should not torture themselves over the past, for there was so much hope for the future. But he knew that Zelda knew these things, and telling her wouldn’t make her feel any better.

From his genuflect, he offered her the glowing core and wrapped her hand around it. Though they both wore thick armored gauntlets, warmth flowed between their hands.

“I thought I knew nothing but my name when I woke up,” he said, never breaking his gaze from hers. “But I _knew_ to be afraid of them. I saw one of the ruined Guardians in front of the Temple of Time and it made me physically sick. I sat in a corner and cried, and for months afterward I didn’t have it in me to face one. The sight of a single blue eye paralyzed me with fear. Din herself made me fight an army of Stalkers because she _knew_ I was afraid.”

Zelda’s tears dripped from her nose to the ground beside Link’s knee. An apology trembled on her lips like a raindrop on the edge of a leaf. Link would not give her the time to find breath to speak it.

“Zelda, through the Guardians, we’ve learned to harness the power of aura. The armor I wear. The Sheikah Slate. We can cross the kingdom in the blink of an eye, lift impossibly heavy things, freeze time…and _you_ know how that all works, or you can figure it out, because _you_ are so studied in ancient technology.” Link kept his voice low and steady. Believable, he hoped. “When I say that hope for Hyrule lies in you and Guardian technology… I really, really, believe it, princess. ”

She pulled him to his feet but did not embrace him. She simply bowed her head, nearly enough to rest her forehead on his cuirass. “We truly are soul mates,” she murmured. “Will we ever relinquish our guilt?”

Link sighed. “We have our whole life ahead of us to try, and many more afterward.”

They set off for the Shrine side-by-side, the backs of their hands nearly touching. When they finally stood on the platform that would lower them into the Shrine, Zelda allowed herself to lean against him for support. He put his arm around her shoulder and rested his cheek on her hair.

“Did the fight leave you hollow, Zelda?”

She nodded shortly, too weary for words now—and unable to articulate the gravitational vortex in her chest that twisted her insides and threatened to pull her in on herself.

He raised a small green vial of elixir. “Muzu reminded me that new warriors often put so much of their spirit into battle, they are left empty in the aftermath. Mipha apparently found an energizing elixir to be a remedy.”

Zelda uncorked the vial and raised it in a small toast. “To Mipha,” she murmured, and sipped the green solution. She could hardly taste the elixir or its magic, but as they finally stepped out into the Shrine, she did feel that void in her chest, and the turmoil in her stomach, ease.

“One day, we will raise the next generation of Hyrule’s soldiers and remember this—and Mipha,” she thought aloud. “Even her memory heals.”

The Shrine was as much of a puzzle as any, and by the end of it, Zelda’s spirits had risen and her stomach had settled enough to demand lunch. They received their gifts from Sato Koda who, like the last monk they had met, had a new message for Zelda:

_I am a humble monk, blessed by the Three and dedicated to the awakening of the Goddess Hylia. Your arrival signals the dawn of a new day in Hyrule, and my duty is now fulfilled… Go, and may the Light follow you…_

Link wrapped his arm around Zelda’s waist as the monk faded away on a spectral wind. She was surprised when he lowered his head and rested it on her shoulder. “Good things are coming. I know it,” he murmured.

She reached up to pet his hair. “I’m beginning to believe it,” she replied. “Slowly.”

They did not immediately return to the Domain. When they exited the Shrine, Zelda felt compelled to lie down in the grass and stare up at the sky. Link fetched their lunch from his bag and sat beside her, leaning back onto his elbows. They were silent, but for the crunch of apples and crinkle of banana leaves wrapped around their sticky rice balls. Zelda traced out shapes in the clouds with a raised hand, but she did not narrate. There was an atmosphere around her that she was loathe to break; it was melancholy, but it was potent and peaceful. The wind sighed through the grass and her heart beat steadily in her chest, and if she listened closely, she fancied she could feel the heartbeat of Hyrule deep in the ground beneath her. Things were growing all around them.

They spent the afternoon listening, until the first raindrops began to fall.

 

They returned to the Domain, and Zelda asked Link to tell the Zora court that she had retired early for the day. She found that she was even more exhausted than she had originally thought she would be after their battle with the ancient foes. She was certain that despite the training Link had put her through in Gerudo Town, she was going to be sore in a few hours. Upon letting her armor fall to the floor, Zelda fell into bed and immediately lost consciousness.

The next thing she knew, Zelda woke at some indeterminable time, groggy and confused. She did not move from her bed, content to stare up at the ceiling while she pieced her mind back together from dreamland. She was warm, and her bed was so soft it enshrouded her entirely like an embrace.

She strained her ears to hear if Link lay in wait outside her door, but she could hear no sound besides the croak of hot-footed frogs in the Domain.

Zelda ran a hand across her face, through her hair. She did not feel more awake, but she did feel electrified. Her skin tingled, and there was an energy in her muscles that no simple stretch could be rid of. She slipped out of bed and went to her window and found herself looking up at a full moon. It was bigger than she remembered the moon being even the night previous, and it was tinged Champion’s Blue.

The princess of Hyrule donned a cloak for warmth and protection from potential rain, and she slipped out her window onto the ledge beneath. Then she dropped down a few more feet into a shallow canal and began to wander.

The energy inside her was also thick in the air; perhaps it was magic, or perhaps it was simply too late at night for any soul to be out, but the Domain was silent and seemingly empty. When Zelda found herself standing in front of Mipha, she was only slightly surprised.

Zelda stretched out her hand and touched the base of Mipha’s statue and felt the energy around her crescendo. Nothing seemed to happen outwardly, but that only made the tension in Zelda’s body draw closer to snapping. She did not know what it meant, did not particularly enjoy the feeling. There was a kind of stiffness, a rigidity like an iron rod in her spine, a feeling like a cord tied to the top of her head. She was familiar with these sensations. They had been taught to her, instilled in her as virtues: dignity, poise, stoicism, sacrifice.

She was done with them. Just like she was done harboring this guilt. Crying over things she could not control. Looking back when life was moving forward again. She was doing everything she could. Her efforts were being recognized. She was supported and loved. There could be no room in her heart for guilt or darkness of any kind.

Zelda raised her hands above her head and reached for the sky as she filled her lungs with the night air. Gone were all traces of smoke and burning metal from the fallen Guardians. She felt a presence around her that manifested as a rising tide of warmth and excitement. Mipha was with her, or perhaps she was not, but Zelda felt encouraged nonetheless. The princesses had both been raised to put duty over their happiness, other peoples’ desires over their own, but the time for that was over. A new age in Hyrule was beginning. Ruta’s pilot would soon be free to rest, and a new Zora would take up the helm.

The tension in Zelda’s spirit snapped, and she threw her hands down with relief. She opened her eyes and smiled at the night sky. _Even her memory,_ she thought.

A soft footstep in the water behind her made her whirl, and she found Hero watching her. There was an awed expression on his face—not at all the frustration or worry she had anticipated at finding her out alone at night. The light of the moon cast his golden hair silver, but another light source, perhaps from behind her, illuminated his face; his eyes were almost completely white in the reflection of the light. The sight of him stirred something in her that was familiar but also foreign—a dream forgotten? Or a life?

She tilted her head at him curiously, and he smiled in return.

“Light,” he said. “Light follows you.”

The way he _looked_ at her filled her with light.

Before she could say anything to him, a whisper drew their attention upward.

“Did my sister draw you out of bed too?” Sidon leaned over the balcony above Mipha’s statue.

“I think so,” Zelda replied. “That must mean it is time.”

Zelda and Link had to make a quick detour to change into more suitable adventuring clothes, and then the three friends set off for the islands they had seen on the Goddess’s monument. They reached the cliffs just as the sky began to lighten above them; it cast the world in gray and gave their journey a dream-like quality that encouraged silence in their party. Moblins and lizalfos—even some gold-skinned enemies—had taken up residence in the hills around Ulria Grotto, but they slept peacefully in their dens and did not notice the travelers passing by.

Link, Zelda, and Sidon stood on the cliffs looking out between Knuckel and Ankel islands and somberly took in the sight of Skywatchers circling the towering cliffs above them. Zelda was unsure if she could stomach another confrontation with the Guardians. She was convinced that it was not in her nature to destroy such priceless relics of the kingdom’s past, however dangerous they may be.

But even as the friends stood and tried to figure out their destination, the sun breached the horizon and laid the answer out far below them. Zelda, with her eyes on the Skywatchers, did not notice the Sheikah portal open up in the distant waters; Sidon alerted her to it with a gasp.

“Is that a ring, such as we saw in the race?”

It seemed to be, but Zelda worried just as Mipha had that they would never be able to reach it. The sun seemed to rise faster than it had on any other morning, and its light spilled across the ocean in a straight line toward them—but how long would it remain?

“My friends, please glide as far as you can. I will follow you in the water in case you should fall from fatigue,” Sidon said. Zelda was surprised at the confidence with which he directed them, but the sight of his determined face comforted her. She nodded and prepared her glider immediately, but Link was a little more hesitant. He held the Slate out to her, silently but with insistence.

She accepted it. “I will get to high ground if anything happens,” she promised. “But this seems very straightforward, Link. And we’re wasting daylight!”

She did not wait for the others to respond and instead flung herself from the cliff without a backward glance. The wind whistled in her ears as she flew. The lightness that had filled her spirit when she stood in front of Mipha’s statue seemed to buoy her on her path toward the glowing Sheikah portal, and she registered no pain in her arms or shoulders despite the long journey. They were nearly done with these Trials, and soon they would be halfway done with the quest of the Goddesses. The thought thrilled her.

She could not hear Link’s approach, if he followed her, and there was no hope of hearing him speak if he tried; the wind was too loud, and the smell of salt in the air was too distracting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Link leaning into his glider to catch up with her, and she turned her head to give him a smile. The sight of him awash in morning light made her heart swell with her resolve.

Below them, Sidon raced through the water. He moved with such speed that ocean fish were thrown into the air and out of the way. It seemed he would beat them to the ring handily, but then—he began to flag. Zelda’s arms were just beginning to ache, but she slowed her descent anyway to stay just above Sidon.

 _“Sidon!”_ she shouted. “Don’t give up!”

But he was slowing steadily, and Zelda did not know what to do to encourage him. She looked frantically at the distance they still had to cover, and her mind raced for solutions. She couldn’t afford to land in the water—she certainly wasn’t as strong a swimmer as either Link or Sidon, and if she left the air she would never make it to the end of the race. Perhaps she could use the Slate one-handed to create Cryonis blocks for them to rest on, but then again, the path of light was widening, and soon it would disappear…

The Shrine would appear when one of them reached the end of the race, and surely it would provide some stable platform to rest upon.

Zelda leaned into her glide with all her might. The wind had whistled in her ears, and now it screamed; her eyes watered from the strain on her arms and the saltwater in the air. Her hands slipped from the glider just as she passed through the Sheikah portal, and as she plunged below the waves, her mouth was filled with water.


	30. Emergence.

Zelda kicked desperately to push herself back up to the surface; her legs quickly tangled with sea weed, and it weighed her down. Her lungs burned from the effort of holding her breath, but she refused to give in to desperation. Finally, she broke the surface and she coughed raggedly into the seawater—just as another wave buffeted her.

There was a rush of water, a cloud of bubbles; Zelda opened her eyes in the churning ocean water and caught a glimpse of gold.

Link’s gloved hands found hers. His fingers closed lie a vice around her wrist, and then one of his arms came up under her arms. He urgently pulled her through the water toward the source of the turbulence: the Shrine, rising out of the ocean depths.

They hauled themselves onto the platform even before it fully breached, and Zelda fell on her hands and knees to cough and splutter. Link pulled her sopping hair away from her face helpfully, but as much as she appreciated his concern, she pushed him off and tried to stand. She was still coughing when she got to her feet and unhooked the Slate from her belt. Sidon wasn’t far, but he was approaching so slowly she was afraid the waves would soon overcome him. She carefully aimed Cryonis and created a barrier to protect him from the tide. She placed a third block near to him, and she was relieved when he used it to push off and propel himself closer.

She extended a hand for him, even though she immediately doubted her ability to pull his gargantuan frame. Link’s hand landed on her own and provided his own unnatural strength to pull the Zora prince onto the Shrine platform.

The three friends sat and caught their breaths as the morning sun beat down on them from the east. The islands loomed above them miles to their west against a backdrop of sheer cliffs that stretched on forever. Zelda’s throat burned with saltwater, and her stomach was just as choppy as the water around them, but a great sense of satisfaction filled her at the sight of the cliffs rising to the sky like leviathans in the distance.

“Well, this is it,” Zelda rasped. “We’ve done it. Sidon, we’ve completed Mipha’s trials!”

Sidon lay on his back and stared up at the sky, chest heaving, but he gave a thumbs-up as best he could.

As her thoughts caught up with her body, Zelda began to realize that she did not feel well. Her upset stomach dropped out from beneath her, and she had to bite her knuckles to keep from retching. Zelda couldn’t catch her breath. She coughed raggedly against her fist. She felt worse than she had after fighting the Skywatchers the day previous; she was overcome by a weight, a dragging sensation in her chest that pulled her westward. Unlike the feeling of the Goddesses pulling her own divine power to her fingertips, this felt like hooks in her skin.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Link staring at her with concern written across his features, but she gave him a short, desperate shake of the head. If she tried to speak, she would vomit.

Link stood immediately. “Will you be alright out here, Sidon?” he asked.  
Sidon gave another thumbs-up.

Link bodily hauled Zelda toward the Shrine and activated it. When the floating platform finally placed her and Link on the ground, she wrapped both hands around his arm and leaned into him for support.

“I can’t leave Hyrule, Link,” she said; her voice was rough and caught in her burning throat. He looked at her askance but couldn’t or didn’t formulate a question. “Even on the Shrine platform—it hurts so much, I can hardly bear it.”

Link looked over her head to survey the Shrine, then looked back at her solemnly. “You’re awakening, Goddess. Hyrule was named for you—of course it can’t bear for you to leave.”

She flinched reflexively, though she immediately regretted it. He had addressed her as  _Goddess_. He had put something so monumental, so ancient, into such simple words that it was impossible to believe—but difficult to believe she had ever forgotten.  _Hyrule is named for you,_  he had said, but in her mind there was still Her and me and they were not the same. She had not thought about it in much detail, but she had operated under the feeling that she wasn’t awakening  _that_  Hylia.

But there was no other.

Zelda had to sit down again. Link followed suite patiently, and when she leaned into him, he gladly put his arms around her. This wasn’t just a companionable arm across her shoulder; he embraced her, shrouded her in his warmth. Love and comfort pooled in her chest where fishhooks of pain had been moments before. She didn’t mind the fact that they were both soaking wet. She felt contained, solid, physical—mortal.

The disbelief and shock were quelled in an instant. What else did it mean, to be the Goddess Hylia, but to be bound to this man, and this land through the ages?

The Shrine was far easier to accomplish with two bodies to carry and push the ice blocks scattered around. As they grunted and slipped and shoved their way through the Shrine, Link recounted how he had carried an ice block through lizalfo-infested ruins in the middle of the Gerudo Desert for Furosa, to procure a Noble Pursuit and entice a dehydrated scholar blocking the way to a Shrine.

Zelda strode toward Kee Dafunia with her head held high and her shoulders squared, but before she could reach for the cage of aura around the monk, Link caught her hand and pulled her back to face him.

“We may be more than flesh and blood and steel, princess,” he said, “but that’s all we need to be. And you’re doing it very well.”

 

Having obtained the monk’s blessing and the command to return to Vah Ruta, Zelda and Link rendezvoused with the Zora prince. They found him sitting upright, but he still seemed quite haggard. Zelda’s queasiness and the stinging pain in her chest returned the moment she resurfaced from the Shrine, and she sat quickly beside him so that her wobbly legs wouldn’t have the chance to give out. “How are you, Sidon?” she asked.

Sidon’s gaze was on the distant horizon. “I thought I would feel ready to take on my father’s intended role,” he admitted. “Instead, I’m afraid I’m only tired.”

Zelda immediately felt a pang of guilt. These Trials were meant for  _her_  to undertake, in Mipha’s memory, to awaken the Triforce within her—and to name a new pilot for each Divine Beast. Though Mipha may have appeared to Sidon in a dream and given him Ruta’s helm, there was no other reason to believe the Trials would have helped him in any way. And she had hardly devoted much time to helping him, either. Several statements floated to the top of her mind but she swallowed them all. Each began with “I,” and they only made her feel worse.

Link sat heavily beside Sidon and crossed his legs to avoid the waves that threatened his boots. “You’re never  _going_  to be ready, Sidon,” he said. “You just have to be capable, and survive.”

Sidon nodded, but before he could say anything, Link added, “Besides, everyone in the kingdom is in fanatically in love with you. I doubt any mistake you make will change that.”

The prince’s eyes widened in horror, and Zelda’s eyebrows shot up. Link hadn’t told her  _that_. “What do you mean!” Sidon cried in a voice that was an octave higher than usual. “Who in the world are you talking about?”

Link snorted in disbelief. “I’m not kidding, literally the whole Domain is in your fan club. They talk about how handsome and brave you are all the time. Even the kids do.”

Sidon’s face was blue with mortification.

“Honestly, I think they’re all going to be excited to see what you do as a leader,” Link continued. “And, Sidon, most of your subjects have known you since you were young. They  _know_  you’re not Mipha."

 _“Who!”_  Sidon blurted. “Who leads this?”

Link grinned and reached for the Slate. “As a Knight of Hyrule, it is against my oaths to break a vow of secrecy,” he said primly.

 _As a Knight of Hyrule my_  ass, Zelda thought to herself, and she made a note to command him to tell her, his princess, the name of the poor smitten Zora who lead Sidon’s fanclub. For now, she placed an encouraging hand on Sidon’s and braced herself for the ride.

They traveled as a group via Slate back to the heart of Zora’s Domain and landed in an undignified heap. Sidon was quite disturbed by the aura travel. “I beg your forgiveness, but I refuse to do that  _ever_  again.”

“Hopefully it is never again required,” Zelda said. She was quite disappointed to be soaking wet once more; upon their landing, she had rolled off of the Travel Gate and into the shallow pool that surrounded the Shrine in the middle of the Domain. And she had only  _just_  begun to feel dry again… She stood and rung water out of her braid. Then, something tickled at the back of her mind.

“Sidon, where’s Link?”

The Zora Prince jumped to his feet, apologies pouring from his mouth before he even fully realized what had happened. Link groaned weakly from where he had been sandwiched between the stone Travel Gate and Sidon’s back.

But there was no time to worry about the fallen Champion; Muzu had appeared at the entrance. “Ah, Sidon, your father has been waiting for your return all morning. He said you must go to him as soon as you’re able.”

The three companions exchanged concerned looks and bounded past Muzu and up to the throne room.

“Father, what is it!” Sidon cried as he bounded across the threshold—and was met with a giant crowd of cheering Zora. The prince stopped in his tracks, and Link ran straight into his back; Zelda stumbled to a halt just in time to avoid a collision herself, and she quickly realized what was happening.

 

_The news had been sent from king to king soon after the summer solstice: the royal family of the Zora invited their Hylian allies to come welcome their new hatchling. Summer was a busy time for Castle Town and the surrounding farms, so Rhoam sent Zelda in his stead._

_When the princess and her delegation reached the entrance to the Domain, they were met by the young Zora princess and her attendant. “Princess of Hyrule, it is so wonderful to see you!” Mipha’s joy was evident in her tone; it was unlike her to raise her voice, to smile so widely. She maintained her usual grace, but it was amplified tenfold._

_Zelda smiled wanly and nodded, and though she noted Mipha’s uncharacteristic exuberance, she herself could not muster half of Mipha’s enthusiasm.Mipha was not perturbed in the slightest. She embraced Zelda tightly, then took her hand._

_“Come! You must meet my brother.”_

_They soon arrived at the sleeping pond reserved for Zora royalty, and they found the queen treading water there, buoying her baby as he splashed and spat water merrily around her. “Princess Zelda,” the queen said pleasantly. “I’m honored that you could be present for our naming ceremony. I so appreciated your mother’s company when Mipha was first hatched.” She gently pushed her baby toward the pool’s edge. “Sweet One, meet your princesses.”_

_Zelda’s mind immediately kicked into gear; she would not think of her mother, now. Instead, she would focus entirely and wholeheartedly on the new prince.The baby Zora had red scales like his sister and mother, and his reptilian eyes were gold. He was no bigger than a melon, but Zelda found herself wondering how big his egg must have been—how did that even work? What was his gestation like? How was he con—_

_Zelda stopped herself and knelt to say hello to the baby. She held out a hand for the child, but Mipha lunged forward and caught it. “He nibbles,” she confessed. “He has my mother’s teeth.”_

_The queen smiled ruefully. “Indeed. Perhaps you might offer him a crab to chew on.” She dove into the water and returned with a small ironshell crab. It waved its pincers angrily in Zelda’s direction, but she gladly took it and extended it to the baby prince._

_The hatchling latched onto the crab with ferocity that startled Zelda, and she released the crab. The creature was nearly half the hatchling’s size, and the two sank beneath the surface of the water; Zelda gasped, but Mipha and her mother looked on without concern. There was a flurry of motion under water, and the surface began to roil—and then the baby emerged with half of a crab shell sticking out of his mouth, victorious._

_“Sharp teeth and a thick skin,” Mipha said with gentle pride. She too knelt at the water’s edge, and she splashed water in the babe’s direction. “They will take you far, my brother.”_

 

“—Princess Zelda, on my son’s hatching day!”

“Yes,” Zelda said without hesitation but with a little guilt for having been so lost in her own thoughts. She had no idea what she had just agreed to, but she could read the room well enough and knew she was expected to approach the throne. As she went, she cast a glance back at Link and Sidon. Sidon’s face was blue with a blush; Link’s face was mostly stoic, and his hands remained loosely at his sides—but she saw him give an inconspicuous thumb-up.

“I was just thinking about the first hatching day I ever witnessed,” Zelda said as she approached Dorephan. “It was Prince Sidon’s, over one-hundred years ago.” Dorephan’s wide smile encouraged her to continue. She turned a little to address the room. “Lady Mipha and I observed then that the prince had sharp teeth and a thick skin. In my long absence, it would seem that your prince has only grown fiercer, braver…and taller.”

The court laughed heartily, and Sidon’s blush deepened. Dorephan’s joy was most audible; his laughter shook the room. “Well said!” he cried. “For those reasons, it comes as no surprise that our prince has been able to overcome the Divine Trials that Lady Mipha encountered a century ago.”

Sidon looked up at his father in surprise, then looked at Muzu. The elderly Zora shrugged sheepishly; clearly he had been the one to tell the king, despite Sidon’s reticence. Zelda saw the exchange and immediately recognized the awkward position they were all in.

Dorephan continued without pause. “In doing so, he has proved to us all that he is worthy of Mipha’s duty as the Commander of the Zora armies, ultimate protector of our people, and leader of the Zora effort to rebuild Greater Hyrule. But it is not only the Trials that have proved his worth.” Dorephan chuckled. “No. My son, you have traveled the entirety of Zora Domain, building relationships with our people near and far. You have never turned your back on a Zora in need, and you have consistently placed the good of our people over your own safety. Your heart is bigger than even your stature would belie—and you have truly become the pride of the Domain.”

Sidon’s friends, fan club, courtiers, elders, and guards erupted with joy. Sidon looked ready to melt into a puddle, but Link pressed him forward to stand closer to Zelda. Despite his embarrassment, it was clear that Sidon’s spirits were much improved.

“You didn’t tell us it was your hatching day,” Link said under his breath.

“I forgot,” Sidon said sheepishly. “We do not traditionally celebrate them after our fiftieth year, but Father likes to make it a very big deal, particularly since we lost my mother and my sister…”

Zelda put her hand gently on his finned elbow. “We do have an excuse to escape,” she reminded him.

But Sidon shook his head. “I won’t rob him of this,” he said. “Father hasn’t been in such a good mood in a very long time.”

“Princess Zelda,” Dorephan called, “now that Prince Sidon has completed your Divine Trials, I believe you have something else to announce.”

Zelda stared at Sidon and tried to communicate with her eyes that she would not do or say anything he did not want her to. The prince bowed his head, however, and she could not read his intentions.

“Ah, yes,” Zelda said, trying to buy herself and her friends some time. “Since my return, the Goddesses have entrusted me with finding new pilots for the Divine Beasts. It is true that no threat remains that would necessitate their use, so I do not come to appoint a Champion of Hyrule. Instead, I return Vah Ruta to the people she was created to serve: the Zora. I believe that Prince Sidon will find new use for Ruta in the aide of the Zora. What say you?”

“Aye!” the crowd shouted, and whoops and whistles rose up for Sidon.

“So be it,” Dorephan agreed. “What an auspicious hatching day!”

The festivities began before anyone could mention their last remaining duty. Instead, Sidon was dragged away to dance and preen. Zelda stood awkwardly beside Link and watched the celebration unfold. “Well, I’m glad that he seems to be enjoying himself a little more,” she remarked.

“Baby steps,” Link agreed. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, more of a attendant than a companion in this setting. “You and I both know what it’s like to feel incapable of the duties required of us, as well as—” he glanced at her sidelong “—realizing that our capabilities are determined entirely by ourselves and no one else.”

Zelda wanted to reach for his hand, more than anything else in that moment. Instead, she returned her gaze to the celebration and laced her fingers together in front of her. The princess and her knight did not join the festivities, and they stood side-by-side, watching their friend grow into his role of life-of-the-party, host, and leader all in one.

“We could slip away and get the helm on our own,” Link said.

“No,” Zelda replied. “Sidon should meet his sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be coming sooner than later!


	31. Survivor's Guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** A slight trigger warning for an oblique mention of self-harm later in the chapter.

The celebration poured out of the throne room and into the courtyard below, bringing Sidon with it. Zelda and Link remained behind, as did Muzu. The elderly Zora approached Zelda, muttering something about the volume outdoors and his poor ears. Zelda smiled and nodded empathetically.

“Dear princess, thank you for your kind words,” Dorephan boomed. “I am certain that they carry great weight in my son’s mind. With your blessing, he will surely lead the Zora to new frontiers.”

“Speaking of frontiers, what yet remains for you, Your Grace?” Muzu asked.

Zelda smoothed out a wrinkle in her trousers. “If I may be frank, Sir Muzu, King Dorephan… I do not know. My divine task requires me to do one more thing in the Domain, but afterward, there remain two Divine Beasts without pilots…. But I do not know what the wisest course of action for the _country_ would be.” She looked up in earnest entreaty at the king. “As you know, my people are scattered to the corners of Hyrule. Even with your support, I think it would be hard to unite them under one banner once more. I…would appreciate any counsel you might give, Your Majesty.”

“I too wondered what might be your next course of action,” said the king. “I believe there is but one course of action that could provide the public support and unification you need, Princess Zelda. Do as you have already done here, by winning the affections of the Zora. Seek out Rudania and Medoh, visit their people—but do not hide who you are or what you have returned to do. Then, once you have completed your divine quest, have your knight send word to his many friends in the kingdom, to meet in Castle Town on a specified day and time. Then, with the power of the Triforce and the trust of your knight, you will have the greatest chance of uniting your people.”

Zelda kept her face carefully contemplative, though she did not need to think twice about Dorephan’s plan; it was her own, and it had been, all along. “Thank you for your Wisdom, King Dorephan,” she said.

“Of course, that day is far off,” Dorephan continued. “When it comes, princess, you need not doubt the Zora’s loyalty. And in the meantime, if there is anything you may require…ask it, and I or my son will make sure it is so.”

 

They feared that they might have to drag Sidon away from his adoring fanclub, but Zelda suggested that she change out of her damp clothes and see if, by then, he would have escaped from the throng. In fact, she had just exited her rooms, now dressed in warmer clothes and sturdier boots, when Sidon sought them out. He was out of breath and flushed, but the smile on his face was wondrous.

“Sidon,” Zelda said, “there remains one last task. Would you join us?”

“You are going to Ruta?” They nodded. “Yes. I believe I will join you.”

So they set off at once. Sidon chatted about the celebration—apparently, Zelda’s words were a hit with the crowd—as they made their way out of the city and into the hills. As they left the beaten path to make their winding way upwards, his chatter subsided and their focus turned to finding their footing amid the rocks.

Behind Sidon’s back, Link hung on to Zelda’s arm. The look in his eyes was solemn. “You should warn him of what’s to come,” he said.

Zelda nodded. “I don’t know how,” she admitted. Nevertheless, she caught up to the Zora Prince, while Link surpassed them and ventured on ahead to scout the route. “Sidon,” she said breathlessly. “I wanted you to come so that I could give you Ruta’s helm and appoint you more personally as her pilot…but there are a few other things that must happen before that is possible.” Sidon’s keen gaze was on her in an instant. “No more trials,” she assured him.

“Then what is there? A ceremony?”

The Goddesses could not care less about ceremony. Zelda had observed. “Not exactly. Link must face a battle of the spirit between himself and a phantom creature within Ruta. We too will be challenged by a spirit…your sister, in fact. It is my opportunity to put the Champions’ spirits to rest, and for them to pass on their last words…and I thought you should meet her. Mipha.”

Sidon slowed down, then stopped walking altogether. Zelda stopped but a pace ahead, and she turned to find his face more open and pleased than she had anticipated. “That is very kind of you,” he said softly. “I have often desired this very thing, Princess Zelda. I must say, journeying with you has often made me feel that my sister is watching over me. Your wisdom and kindness has meant a great deal. I truly value it.”

“I learned a lot of it from her,” Zelda admitted.

“Let us both thank her, then,” Sidon said.

They soon scrambled up the cliff face where Ruta had made her perch, and the three stood in awe of the Divine Beast for several moments in silence.

Then, the Goddesses spoke.

_To the one who approaches this Divine Beast…with doubt in your breast…. In exchange for Ruta’s emblems you will be granted the chance to tread through the realm of memories. Those who lack determination will find this trial unforgiving._

_Do not take this place lightly, nor dismiss it as merely a world within your mind. The truth is much deeper than you know…_

Link did not need to look at Sidon to sense his friend’s concern. “I did this at Naboris already,” he assured the prince, “and I faced the Waterblight in waking life as well. I’ll be fine.”

“Then why is there ‘doubt in your breast’?”

Zelda jumped in. “He thinks he has slighted Mipha and doubts that he is worthy of her forgiveness.”

“Whatever could you have done?” Sidon’s tone was soft, though completely disbelieving. “Link!”

Link flinched as though he had been struck. He took half a step away from Zelda, but she reached for his arm. “No, Link. Remember,” Zelda said, “trust. Trust that you care about one another more than anything else that has come up between you.”

Link knew she was saying that as much for his sake as for her own; though Link faced his own challenge in the battle ahead, Zelda would face her long-dead friend, and he was not jealous. Even so, he had just watched her masterfully engineer a situation in which the Zora King fed her a plan that was entirely her own, but seemed like his suggestion. He was amazed at how good she was at this: being a Queen.

But then again, she was born for it.

“In for an rupee, in for an ingot,” he said and slipped from her grasp. Once he had seated himself on a flat rock at Ruta’s foot, he crossed his arms in his lap and exhaled all the tension in his body. “I’m ready.”

The Goddesses swept him away and dressed him in the Zora armor. He knew it immediately from the way the helm kept his ears warm and shrouded his eyes; he did not appreciate how it obscured his vision, but he would need all the armor he could get. The Goddesses had left him with only Mipha’s trident, a crescent bow, and a handful of arrows. No shield would aid him but that of Daruk’s Protection…

The Waterblight coiled itself around its spear, ready to spring, and let loose a violent scream. Link suddenly appreciated the stupid helm; it blocked the worst of the noise spectacularly. With a clear mind, he stepped out of time and around the tip of the Waterblight’s encroaching spear in order to rip it apart with the vicious prongs of his trident. Before it could recover, he used Stasis on the golem to extend his opening. When he finally put space between himself and the Waterblight once more, he felt invigorated.

It did not last long.

Bits of aura began to shimmer across the Waterblight’s Malicious skin, and something hot began to curl in Link’s stomach. At one point, it would have been a sense of horror; now, it was merely anger and frustration, for _the Waterblight was healing itself._ Link had torn a massive hole in its side, and it was patching up right before Link’s very eyes.

He released a vicious curse as he squared off with the creature once more. Link had no doubt this was all Din’s fault

 

“What does Link think he’s done?” Sidon asked, looking on as the trance swept over the knight.

Zelda took a deep breath. “He feels guilty that he forgot her, and that now, he cannot be certain if he returned her affections or not,” she said softly—though she knew Mipha would hear, regardless. “Your father seems quite certain of it.”

“Not at all,” Sidon interjected. “He never knew if my sister went through with her intentions…no one did. But in the stories I grew up on, my father often remarked that he believed Link was ‘married to duty.’” Sidon looked back at Zelda, frowning. “You’ve read her journals, no? It offers no clue to whether she proposed to the Hylian Champion after all.”

Zelda felt a weight ease on her shoulders. “No,” she said, “it doesn’t.”

Zelda felt a tug on her sleeve, and she forced herself to bow to Sidon. “Excuse me,” she said. “I believe we are both to have private conversations with the Zora Champion.”

Sidon nodded slowly and watched her walk away. She wondered if he would see her talking to his sister, or if it would seem that she were talking to thin air. She would need to remember to ask after this was all over—

When Mipha’s presence surrounded Zelda, all of her well-practiced and thought-out words went missing. Zelda turned to the Zora Princess but could not meet her eyes; indeed, it felt like a weight was tied to her neck. She found herself bowing lower and lower until she was on her knees at the Zora’s feet, her eyes on the ground, whispers pouring from her mouth like a deluge: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Mipha knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Just as it had that night, the Zora’s peaceful, light-hearted spirit enshrouded Zelda, but this time it did not drive away her grief. Zelda recalled her conversation with Link amid the pile of slain Guardians and wondered if this was the answer: grief and guilt had made their home in her breast, and they would have to live there—alongside the joy and hope and peace she had found. After all, the grief and the joy, the guilt and all the rest, were bound by the same string of fate and destiny.

“My dear friend,” Mipha said softly, “I have wept for a century over my failures, but you have saved us all. You went back to face the Calamity alone. You stopped the Guardians before they could ever reach the Domain, and you gave my brother and my people a safe place to grow and thrive…and you gave me a chance to say goodbye to each of my loves… And you have suffered enough for it, princess. You need not apologize.”

Mipha raised Zelda up, but they did not release one another. Mipha smiled at her with such kindness that Zelda was forced to smile in return. The Zora Princess was more beautiful in death than she was in life—or perhaps that was Zelda’s fondness for her friend. But her scales were radiant, and her cheeks were flushed with life; the luminous stones on her brooch, her collar, her headdress shone with otherworldly light. “You are dressed as quite the adventurer,” Mipha said. “Why, you are even sunburnt!”

Heat crept up Zelda’s neck to her cheeks. “I was always jealous of how you could go wherever you wanted without a horde of knights in tow, because you had your spear,” she said. “Now I carry my own sword—and it’s so freeing, Mipha!”  
“Yet a knight still follows you,” Mipha replied.

Her eyes had not left Zelda’s face, but Zelda was keenly aware that Link sat, deep in his trance, just a few feet away. The heat in her face was now a mark of shame.

“When I first realized that he had forgotten us all, I thought—perhaps this is a blessing,” Mipha said. “I even hoped that he would turn his back on us all…and be free of the destiny that had constricted him for so long. But even when he had no recollection of you, he knew to follow you.”

Mipha’s smile never faded, and so Zelda did her best to keep her own gaze steady. She blinked away tears feverishly. “Mipha… I held his body, as broken as his sword, and I…” She swallowed what felt like shards of glass in her throat, but words continued to fail her. It had not gotten easier to say that she had thought of leaving him to die that day. It had not gotten easier to say that it was selfish of her to have demanded he come back and save her. And no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much she loved _him_ , it was just one more of the ways fate had been cruel to him. And she had been its arbiter.

Mipha lowered her eyes only momentarily as she ran her hand soothingly up and down Zelda’s arm. When she looked up, her golden eyes shone with warmth. “Princess,” she said, “we have always been in the unique position to understand one another when no one else could. When my mother died, you came to mourn by my side. When all the world looked to you as a princess and commander, I knew I needed to be only a friend. When I realized that, of course, your powers came from the same source as mine… I knew I had to tell you…” Mipha breathed deeply, slowly, and for the first time she closed her eyes and let grief pass over her face. “I promise you, it was not out of selfishness that I did not tell you sooner,” she said in a wavering voice. “My friend—”

_“Don’t you dare.”_

Zelda tightened her grip on Mipha’s forearms to the point of pain, but she could not stand to hear even an ounce of guilt enter her friend’s voice. “The thought never once crossed my mind, Mipha.” Zelda’s vision clouded with tears, and she sat back on her heels, nearly slipped out of Mipha’s grasp. “Even if you had told me, it would have made no difference then. Not at all. Just as, even if I had had my own sword, I would never have been free.”

The women were silent, regarding each other somberly as dark clouds began to gather on the northeast edge of the Domain.

“Link came to visit me after the inauguration ceremony,” Mipha said at last, “but he would hardly speak to me. It seemed that he was perpetually about to speak—but no words came. Finally, we were alone on Ruta…” A single tear rolled down Mipha’s cheek. “He rolled up his sleeve and he spoke at last of his despair. He was not chosen by the Sword—he was bound to it. He remembered too much. I could heel his wrist, but I could not think of how to heal what was inside.” Mipha nodded to herself. “I believed him and his talk of fate. But I also believed that fate must have something more in store for him. That was the moment I knew, Zelda. Where my healing power failed, yours would not.”

Zelda’s heart broke entirely. Tears washed down her face, unstoppable, and rained down on the slick Zora stone beneath them. She hated that Mipha was so kind, so true, so faithful.

“And I was right,” Mipha proclaimed.

“He saved himself,” Zelda corrected softly. “He cast out the Despair from his own soul. He worked hard for that. It wasn’t me.”

Mipha gave her a wan smile. “Wasn’t it?” She ran a sharp nail down the length of Zelda’s arm and let it rest on the back of Zelda’s hand. “I wondered if you remembered any of your time in captivity. Perhaps one day you will. But every step of his journey was for you, princess.” She closed her hand around Zelda’s. “I will ask him tonight, if he would have done it all anyway, if he didn’t love you, but I already know the answer. It’s why I loved him.”

She bowed her head until her forehead touched Zelda’s. “Last night, when I came to you, I was warmed to see how you’ve grown, Zelda. If you still pity me, then—please, don’t—but rather live for me. Live free. And love freely. It is the secret to the powers that govern this world.”

Zelda sobbed once. Then, the one friend she had ever had in the world, was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your very kind reviews. I read each and every one of them, even if I don't reply.
> 
> I had written out most of this chapter and then Scrivener closed and none of my edits had been saved! Wonderful! But I tried to rewrite everything in one day, so here it is. Let me know what you think, as always.


	32. Matters of the Heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, **trigger warning** for a reference to suicide and self harm.

Ruta was silent. Rain pattered quietly on her hull, and the light that leaked in to the terminal was green and bleak. Link stood by the console and waited for the Goddesses to speak, but the silence dragged on and on and on.

It was cool in the Divine Beast, and the adrenaline of his battle had not worn off. He did not feel like he was in a realm of dreams and memories; he was too energized, too awake, too restless.

He tossed the Zora helm aside and waded through the room and out into the belly of the Divine Beast. Still no voices called to him, so he continued to wander. He soon found himself climbing atop Ruta’s trunk to stare out at the fog-covered Domain; the fog was thick, and he was soon drenched—but the Zora armor kept him warm.

Mipha’s appearance was not sudden or startling, but one moment it seemed that he was alone on Ruta, and the next, she was sitting on his right beside him. Since part of her spirit was with him always, he had not felt a change in the atmosphere around him. She was warm and supportive and quietly happy, as always.

“I’ve expended too much of my spirit watching over my father and Muzu all these years, and after saying goodbye to Princess Zelda and Sidon, the Three have told me my time is limited… I was going to come to you in a dream, a pleasant one, filled with sunshine, but—”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Link said quietly. “Sunshine or not.” His eyes hadn’t left the horizon, but now he looked at her and took in her smile. It warmed him as surely as the sun to see her smile so widely.

Mipha leaned toward him until their shoulders touched. “You have overcome so much,” she said softly. “I have felt your joy, Link.”

Link’s mind raced, but he could not figure out what to say. Any mention of Zelda seemed like sacrilege; any mention of his past lives felt unwarranted; she had already spoken to Sidon, she said…

Link put his arm around her shoulders. “I still don’t remember much, Mipha, and no one is alive to tell me. So you must.” He swallowed hard. “Please, I need to know if I’ve hurt you.”

“Why, so you know to apologize?”

“I know how it feels,” Link said quietly. “For the one you love to walk away from your feelings. I’ve died many times for it.” He had done so many terrible things, had given up his own happiness, livelihood, life, countless times for lack of her love. Indeed, it had driven him to step off the steeple of the Temple of Time on at least two occasions.

The silence that fell between them was heavy, and Mipha reached across him for his left hand, and she began to carefully undo his gauntlet. When his fingers were laid bare, she pushed up the sleeve of the tunic she had made for him and turned his palm upward.

“I made sure there were no scars,” she stated. “When we spoke after you freed Ruta, I sensed that you had no recollection of the extent of your despair. I know that you have since remembered some of it—but you’ve cast it out of your spirit. That was the one thing I would have asked for, Link.”

He was uncertain of what she recalled as she stared down at his wrists so intently, but he understood enough. “I’m sorry I shared that poison with you.”

Mipha shook her head and laced her fingers through his. “You had never _asked_ me to heal you, before that day. I had always been the one to insist. But you made it clear that there was no one else in the world you would have shared your burden with, no one else in the world you thought could heal it.” She looked up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder. “I was the one who said no, Link.”

Link was stunned; his heart pounded in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pain of that moment—the rest of the memory, the pieces he had forgotten—washed across him. He was aware that Mipha’s grip on his hand had tightened as well.

Zelda had recently made it clear that she despised him and his presence. She did not remember him, and he doubted she ever would. It wouldn’t have been the first life he’d spent without the love of his Goddess, but the drowning feeling, the darkness that haunted his dreams and tinted the fleeting memories of his past lives, grew more overpowering with every passing day. He needed a light. He needed a light, and there was one other person in the world who he thought held it.

He had poured it all out at her feet atop Ruta, and as she healed his arm, she said as much as she could to heal his heart. But none of it was what he needed to hear. Finally, she suggested that once the Calamity was vanquished, they could spend more time together. It was his chance.

She had sat beside him just as she did now, and when he asked her, she had held his hand just the same. Her grip had been just as tight. _And she had said no_.

He threw up his walls, the mask, the stoic facade, again and nodded at her words. He had been wrong to ask such a thing of her—because of their respective duties, because of their positions, _because_. Then she touched his face and made him look at her.

“I cannot heal you, but someday you’ll find the one who can. And I will not keep you from what would save your life.”

Link opened his eyes. Mipha had turned in his arms, and she was closer than they had ever been. He bowed his head so that their foreheads touched. “Maybe we could have been happy together, for a time,” he whispered.

“We _were_ happy, for a time,” she reminded him gently, “and I am happy now. I only have one last question.”

Link met her golden eyes and waited.

“If duty had not bound you, would you have walked this path anyway?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Then I have no regrets.” Despite her warm words, tears had filled her eyes and spilled now down her cheeks. “It is an honor to have known you, loved you, aided you, Hero. Thank you for keeping me in your heart…even when you did not remember me.” She stroked his cheek gently, and then—Mipha leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go. The Goddesses await.”

Link stood reluctantly, but she nodded at him. “Go,” she whispered again.

He looked back at Ruta, then at where Mipha sat. But she was gone.

  
Link returned to the control room and found the Three awaiting him in their Sheikah forms. Like always, Nayru and Din obscured their faces, and the blue Eye of Truth appeared beneath their feet. Each stood on one of the triangular eyelashes, and Link approached his place at the center of the eye.

“Champion,” Din said, “for overcoming this trial, you shall wield the blessing of Mipha’s Grace with far greater Power than before.” She spread her arms, and the water that still filled the chamber rippled outward from her feet. The waves washed against Link and filled him with light.

“You have done well to move beyond regrets,” Nayru said. “What is it you must do now?”

Link took a deep breath. “I need to align my words and actions with my heart,” he replied. He looked to Farore. “Give me the Courage to try.”

His patron bowed her head in assent, and the Goddesses left him once more.

  
Link woke to find Zelda and Sidon laughing with Kass. Zelda’s eyes were red from crying, and Sidon’s laughter was tinged with melancholy, but they both wore wide smiles when he approached.

“Your battle went well?” Sidon asked eagerly.

Link nodded. “Did you meet your sister?”

“Yes,” Sidon replied. “It was as though I were a child again and she were helping me ascend waterfalls on her back. She assured me that she would do the same, as leader of the Zora.”

Zelda did not offer Link an explanation of her own conversation with Mipha, but despite her sniffles, her smile was true, and he knew he could ask her later.

“So, Kass, have you written a verse for the Zora Champion?”

“Indeed,” Kass said. “For the song I am writing separately from my teacher’s work, I have penned a verse:

_“Recall the Champion of Ruta’s wrath,_   
_Before she walked her chosen path._

_“Mipha’s kindness was known to all,_   
_Which is why the princess came to call._

“I feel the need to expand upon the lives of all the Champions,” Kass said as his accordion faded. “I could write many verses about Lady Mipha—it seems she could be quite the commanding teacher when she needed to be.”

Sidon nodded. “I’m quite pleased with what you’ve composed thus far,” he said. “You captured a vital part of her.”

_Goddess-Blood Princess…heed our call._

The four companions turned as one toward the distant monument.

“It’s time,” Zelda told Sidon. “Kass, you are welcome to come. Perhaps you will set this to song as well.”

They reached the monument just as the first stars began to peek out on the darkening horizon. Zelda approached the dais, and as she went, Divine Light began to radiate from her. It shimmered across her skin, dripped from her fingertips and her hair; Sidon and Kass gasped in awe.

Link’s heart burned at the sight, and he was drawn to follow her. He leaned against one of the three pillars on the monument and basked in the warmth of his Goddess’s light and smile—though her attention was entirely on her task. She held out her hands, shaped the helm between them.

_Daughter of the Three, you have done well to meet the Trials laid before you. You have approached your tasks with Wisdom, and imparted your Wisdom to others…._

_Find one who will pilot the Divine Beast with Wisdom and compassion in kind._

As the Goddesses vanished, the helm finally solidified. With it in hand and flanked by her Hero, Zelda turned to face Sidon. “Prince Sidon, you heard the Golden Ones’ command. Do you accept the stewardship of the Divine Beast Vah Ruta, in the service of your people?”

“I accept,” Sidon said.

Kass struck a merry tune to celebrate, and the companions stood quietly in appreciation. But soon it was time to depart.

Sidon asked if he could board Ruta and investigate her depths on his own and left the others to return to the Domain; Kass took his leave shortly thereafter, mentioning that he was headed north to Rudania before the rain came.

“We’ll see you there,” Zelda assured him, and she and Link waved him off.

The moment Kass disappeared on the horizon, Link said, “Come here.”

Zelda turned just as he caught her by the waist and trapped her in an engulfing kiss. Her hands flew to his hair and the back of his neck to pull him closer, to merge every atom of her being into his. She had missed his warmth, missed his smell, missed the electrifying taste of his lips. His breath came hot against her cheek as he pulled away just to _look_ at her, and the churning emotions in her breast roared to the surface.

“I love you,” she said forcefully. “I love you, Link.”

To her surprise, he did not kiss her right away; he did not sweep her off of her feet, or drop to one knee. Instead, his wide blue eyes were filled with some inscrutable emotion as they searched hers. He raised his hands to her cheeks, tucked her hair behind her ears and continued to stare at her. As each moment dragged on, Zelda’s tumultuous thoughts got the better of her. “What?” she asked fearfully. “Say _something_ , Link. Please.”

“I can never forget this moment,” he whispered. “If I could carve it into my brain with a knife, I would.” He finally closed his eyes; a smile blossomed across his lips and filled her with hope. He tilted his head forward blindly and caught her lips in his again. The need to be one with him, to hold him so close to her that their bodies and souls were one, so that they would never be parted, so that any harm that befell him would come to her as well, was overwhelming; he seemed to feel the same, for he picked her up off her feet, wrapped his arms around her back, and continued to kiss her breathlessly.

Finally, her feet touched earth once more, and her brain followed.

“That’s the first time _you’ve_ said it to me,” Link said against her lips.

“It won’t be the last,” she promised. “But we should probably meet Dorephan, so we can go home sooner.”

Link blinked at her in confusion as he parsed the meaning of her words, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the change in his expression once he came to the proper realization. She slipped from his grasp and set off down the hill at a run, and her Hero followed in close pursuit.

_Live free, live for me, and love freely. That’s the secret._

_Thank you, Mipha._

 

They paused just out of sight of the throne, and they conferred silently about how to enter. Finally, they walked through the open archway side-by-side.

Dorephan greeted them sleepily; it seemed he had been napping.

“Vah Ruta is officially returned to her people,” Zelda proclaimed. “Prince Sidon wears her helm, and he has sworn to pilot her with Wisdom and compassion, and he has the blessing of the Golden Ones. My last task in the Domain is complete, Your Majesty.”

“We will be sorry to lose your company for a time,” said the king, “but we know it will not be for long. It is good that you have returned one last time, Your Grace. There is a delicate matter I did not wish to discuss in front of Muzu or Sidon.” Zelda immediately sifted through every logistical element or political matter that would be too awkward or sensitive to discuss around the others, but one did not come to mind. As she frowned to herself, the king chuckled. “It is delicate only in that it is a deeply personal matter, princess. I mean only to plant the question in your mind—you need not have an answer. I understand that you are young, and even with the full power of the Triforce you will be consumed with restoring the kingdom. But…when you do reclaim your throne, it will be as the Goddess-Blood Queen of Hyrule, without a court of lords and knights from which to choose a worthy king.”

Zelda’s blood ran cold, just as it always had when her father had brought up the same topic in his discussions of her Divine duties. It was no less mortifying coming from the kindly Zora. Fortunately, she had had plenty of practice schooling her face during these awkward conversations, and she tried not to let her abject horror show.

“That is indeed a topic of concern, Your Majesty,” she replied quietly. “I would appre—”

“Forgive me, princess, but I have no Wisdom for you.” Dorephan bowed toward her. “I do not think that matters of the heart can be decided in counsel. You will only find answers within your own heart.”

 _Matters of the heart._ Her father had never put it that way, and she was immediately suspicious of Dorephan’s true intention. But she reminded herself that this was Mipha’s father, and he had raised his daughter to be free.

Zelda folded her hands under her chin and summoned as much Courage as she could find within her. “King Dorephan… In pursuing this quest from the gods, I have come to understand the true nature of my role in Hyrule’s history. I am not merely a princess of the royal line, blessed with the blood of the Goddess.” She closed her eyes. “I am the Goddess Hylia incarnate, and my soul is bound to the soul of the Hero and to the land of Hyrule for eternity. I do not make that assertion lightly, and indeed it still troubles me, but…if we are speaking of my heart…it belongs to Link. It always has.”

She did not have so much Courage that she could look at Dorephan now that she had spoken the truth. If he were at all sad or disappointed, or Goddesses forbid, angry, she would not be able to stem her tears or her own indignation.

But Dorephan made a sound that she did not associate with any of those emotions. She could not open her eyes, but she felt a glimmer of hope.

“Link,” Dorephan said, “I have been fond of you since you first set foot in the Domain as a child, but we never spoke as equals. Now, please, speak to me of your heart.”

Zelda looked over at Link and saw that, though he stood tall under the gaze of the Zora King, his hands trembled at his sides. “Your daughter was my light, a beacon, and my friend, and I did love her. But in every life, up to the first, I have loved Zelda.” His voice rasped, but it did not waver. “I’m sorry.”

Dorephan frowned. “Do not apologize,” he insisted. “I am not a blind fool, Hero. I was long aware of the darkness you hid inside. I saw it in your eyes even after you returned from the dead, without memory. Yet despite that darkness, you said to me, ‘although I do not remember them, I cannot bear to let their suffering continue.’ My first thought upon hearing those words was, for how long must your own suffering continue?” The king released a deep, rumbling sigh. “I have always thought of you as a friend and welcomed you as family, but—I know that my daughter has departed this plane, and my memories alone of her must sustain me. I also have my son, who is brave and confident and honorable. You need not try to be something you never were.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, it's time to go home.


	33. Valley of Shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it's not one of my stories if it doesn't have trauma at its heart. (:
> 
> Please continue to leave me some feedback! I value it and it does kind of inform where I take the story.

With every step she took toward her guest rooms, Zelda’s giddiness built in her chest. She could feel the warmth of Link’s body against her back, and every so often his gloved hand would brush against her elbow and send a spark of electricity through her whole arm and down her spine.

The moment she crossed the threshold to her chambers, Link slammed the door shut, spun her around, and pressed her against the wall. But his mouth did not land on hers, his body did not mesh against hers—rather, the momentum that had carried both of them to the wall then carried Link away to face the intruder, Sword drawn.

Zelda did not waste a moment. She ducked low to the ground and lunged for where her own sword lay against the desk nearby. She drew it in a fluid movement and took her place at Link’s side.

The intruder stood in shadow, but their silhouette was clear: a Yiga had infiltrated the royal chambers. Yet the assassin did not make a move. Zelda assumed that they were doing the mental calculus of whether or not it was wise to take on both the Hero and the Goddess-Blood Princess two-on-one.

Then, there was a clatter; the Yiga’s empty hands rose above their head. “I…I surrender…”

Zelda reached for the Guardian shield that she had also left on her desk, and by its blue light she saw that the Yiga had dropped their spiked sickle—and their mask. The face that was revealed was fair but badly beaten: their cheek had been cut open, and the wound was swollen and crusted; their lip was split and still bleeding; both eyes were blackened, one to the point of being sealed shut.

Zelda lowered her sword, confident that if any blow were to come toward her, her Chosen Knight would stop it. “W-what is your name?” She squared her shoulders, raised her chin. “What is your name, and what do you want?”

“Ciera,” the Yiga replied. “I wish to leave the Yiga.”

“But why have you come to our feet?” Zelda asked, and she kept her face and voice schooled. “Why have you not faded into the shadows of Hyrule?”

“Because the Yiga do not tolerate defectors, and the Yiga live in the shadows. Because I know no trade but spycraft.” The defector’s lip quivered. “Because the Sheikah will kill me on sight.”

 _That sounds about right,_ Zelda thought. Link and Granté had told her of the lost generation of Sheikah who had killed their parents and followed Kohga. She tried to remain skeptical of this Ciera’s intentions, but she was fixated on the poor thing’s battered features. “You must be in pain, Ciera. Let’s see to your wounds, and then we can talk. I will set the lights. Link, please administer an elixir.”

Zelda kept a close eye on the Yiga as she went to the lamps; Ciera flinched when Link approached with a hearty elixir in his extended hand, and their hands shook when they accepted the elixir from Link.

Soon, the worst of the bruising and swelling subsided, though Ciera’s face was not _healed_ by any sense of the word. Their beating must have been extensive to render a potent hearty elixir so ineffective.

Link did not sheath the Master Sword, and he did not take his eyes off of Ciera. The Yiga stood with their head down like an abused creature, incapable of meeting either the princess’s or the Hero’s gaze.

“Sit, Ciera. Please, you’re swaying on your feet.”

Zelda fetched a glass of water from the pitcher by her desk and noted that, when Ciera reached for it, their hands did not tremble in the slightest.

The princess then fetched a seat from her desk and brought it to sit at an angle from the Yiga. Sitting directly across from Ciera would have felt too much like an interrogation, or berating a schoolchild. Here, just barely within striking distance, Zelda hoped she was demonstrating trust.

Link remained standing beside her. Also within striking distance.

“You wish for me to reintroduce you to the Sheikah—for me to give my word for your good character,” Zelda said. Ciera nodded, eyes still on the floor. “The Yiga have made attempts on my life and the life of my Chosen Knight. They have made attempts on my family’s lives. They have made attempts on my friends’ lives. Besides that, I do not enjoy lying—and to vouch for you without _knowing_ your character, that could be a lie. So you must first tell me under what circumstances you _joined_ the Yiga, before tell me why you would leave.”

Ciera nervously raised a hand to tuck away their hair, but the skullcap still held it tight against their skull. Their fingers slipped beneath the fabric and pulled it away, freeing long white hair that was matted with blood. Zelda did her best not to gasp.

“I was born into it,” Ciera said. “My mother was young when she and my father killed their parents and followed Kohga into the desert. I was raised believing the Goddess to be a liar, the Hero to be a villain, the Three Mothers to have abandoned Hyrule. Kohga and Demise promised freedom and power, and that is all I knew. But my parents are dead. Kohga is dead. No great power was given to us, no fame, no _friends_. And those who I thought were my brothers and sisters…” Throughout Ciera’s speech, their head had drooped lower and lower; now Ciera’s eyes filled with tears. “Since Ka’loh took Kohga’s place…my brothers…they were promised power, but Kohga never gave it to them…they were not given power, so Ka’loh told them to take it. From their own.”

Zelda’s blood ran like ice in her veins as soon as she understood what Ciera meant. Her hands tightened in her lap so that she would not reach out to the battered assassin. “And your sisters?” she asked quietly, though she dreaded the answer.

A few tears dripped from Ciera’s nose. “Leaving the Yiga ends in certain death. Traitor to the clan, traitor to the Sheikah. Enemy of the Gerudo. It feels like no choice. So they…they…”

Link’s hands were tight on the hilt of the Master Sword. Zelda could feel the murderous intent roll off of him. Still, she was grateful for his silence.

“Ciera,” she said, “it horrifies me to know that the people you love and trust have hurt you this way. I can’t imagine the heartbreak you must feel, how betrayed.” Ciera’s shoulders tensed at Zelda’s words, so Zelda decided to move away from the subject temporarily. “I would like to know…what do you think of me, the Goddesses, the Hero?”

Ciera took a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. The Goddess statues have wings, under which She shelters Her people. The Hero…” Ciera actually looked away from Link, to the opposite corner of the room. “The Hero has been kind to the people of Hyrule. I’ve seen it as I traveled in disguise. He takes pity on people in need. He never helps them with an ulterior motive. Even when there are no rupees in it. And you…the Sheikah revere you. You have great power. You fought the Demon, you vanquished him. If anyone could protect me…”

Zelda wished she could make such a promise. “I brought Light back to Hyrule. If you follow me, there will be no shadows to hide in. Your intentions must always be clear. Your motivations must always be true. You must not hide your thoughts, no matter what they may be—and I promise that I will not judge them, I will take you at your word, and I will protect you as one of my own.” The princess bent a little to catch the Yiga’s eye. “What say you, Ciera?”

“I can do that, Your Grace,” Ciera said in a broken whisper.

“It’s just ‘Zelda,’” Zelda said. “Now, then, Ciera, let us discuss how this will play out. We will return to Hateno. I will give you a spare outfit and you will bathe and you will have another elixir. Then, I will take you to Purah. You will be able to stay with her, with some assurance of safety—and then we will speak further in the morning. Is that agreeable?”

“Impa’s s-sister?”

“Yes. She would not turn down a request from me,” Zelda said firmly. “Besides, she loves doing things that irritate Impa.”

 

The moment Ciera had vanished into a puff of red smoke, Link took her place on the couch and rested his cheek on his knuckles, hands folded across the hilt of his sword. His blue gaze, locked on Zelda’s face, was inscrutable.

She kept her queenly mask affixed. “You do not approve,” she assumed. “I understand that keeping a Yiga assassin close-by is a dangerous gamble, but I cannot in good conscience release that girl to her abusers and certain death. I also think that the Sheikah’s survival depends on a willingness to re-assimilate defectors and particularly the children of defectors, like Ciera, who grew up indoctrinated by a _cult_. Purah always spoke out against the up-swelling of patriarchal sentiment in our traditionally matriarchal society, and I can’t think of anyone more likely to be a healing presence for Ciera than Purah, and—why are you still staring at me!”

“I love you,” Link said simply. His eyes closed for a brief moment, and when he opened them again, she recognized that his face had been open the whole time she had spoken; he was not wearing his stoic mask, but rather drinking her in, letting her wash over him. A flush rose in her neck, though nothing had happened to precipitate it. “If it were me, Zelda, on my own, I would have done the same thing. I wouldn’t have remembered the stuff about Purah, but everything else… I’ve talked to Paya about forgiving ex-Yiga.” He exhaled slowly. “My heart just fills every time I see this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The Goddess.” He did not move from his slouch on the couch, did not raise his cheek from the pommel of his sword. She wished he would—because she felt cold at his words, and she longed for his warmth to be closer. “Your confident-kindness,” Link continued. “Your supremely logical compassion. Your calm in the face of these mortal storms.” He closed his eyes again. “I love you, My Queen.”

Zelda could not quiet the riotous and conflicting feelings in her heart, and she needed something solid to anchor her. She closed the distance between them and fell into his awaiting arms. Her head fit perfectly in the space between his shoulder and his chin—because he had been made for her, and she for him. He lay the sword across her lap, and then his arms circled around her tightly. His heavy exhale was hot against her forehead.

Several silent moments passed. It was much easier to organize her thoughts, sheltered beside his steady, patient heart.

“I can’t believe they would do that to her,” she whispered to him. “To all of the women.”

“That’s his way. Seize Power—do not ask, do not earn it. Subordinate the world, destroy it, even, just to claim Power over it.”

Zelda was shocked by the strength of Link’s bitterness, the depth of it. She did not exactly know who he was speaking of: the Calamity? An older embodiment of Malice? Demise himself? And, what exactly was he remembering?

“Power without Courage is cowardice,” Link continued after another pause. “That is why they do not know love.”

  
They packed up their belongings shortly thereafter, then met in the center of the room to travel back to Hateno. When Link activated the Slate and opened the map, Zelda felt compelled to reach for his right hand. She laced her fingers through his and held it close to her breast, above her still-thundering heart. “It is not the time, but I very much want you to kiss me,” she whispered.

He looked up at her with those ancient blue eyes, then turned to face her fully. “We have all the time in the world, princess,” he murmured, and leaned in to kiss her softly. His lips met hers like a sleepy tide, each time withdrawing just a hair’s breadth farther away. In that manner, he coaxed her closer, until they stood chest-to-chest, his right hand clasped tightly in her left, his left arm slung around her shoulders, her right hand tenderly exploring the line of his jaw.

She rocked back from her tiptoes and tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. Without breaking his gaze from hers, without another word, he selected the Shrine in Hateno, and the aura whisked them away.

  
Ciera stepped out of the darkness a little ways away from the Travel Gate. She had fully removed her tight hood, and her long hair fell in waves down her back. She trailed behind them as they headed to their home.

Zelda lit the lamps while Link showed Ciera the bath, the soap, the towels; then Zelda fetched fresh clothes for the woman, as promised. “We are going to speak to Purah,” Zelda said. “When you feel ready, please lock the door, then come up the hill to the Tech Lab.”

Ciera stood, hunched a little over the clothes and soap and towels and elixir that had been thrust into her arms. Her eyes were still on the floor. “Thank you,” she rasped. Zelda did not wait, and she led Link out of the house.

“So there may be something I forgot to tell you about Purah,” Link said nervously. “I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

They had just crossed the footbridge by the dye shop. Zelda slowed but did not stop, and she did not turn to face him. Perhaps she would have mistrusted him, and been more concerned about the nature of this surprise, but it was hardly at the top of her priorities. “Is she still Purah?” she asked.

“You know, I really can’t answer that.”

 _Of course._ She should have remembered. Now she turned to face Link, and she reached for his hand in apology. He did not seem hurt at all, but it was good to walk hand-in-hand up the hill to the Tech Lab together. The night was clear and a little cooler than it had been in the Domain, as the winds that reached Hateno were primarily from the eastern sea and the Lanayru tundra. It only encouraged Zelda to stay closer to Link’s side.

She was shocked at the sight of the Tech Lab; it was entirely unlike the Royal Labs Purah had built up throughout Zelda’s childhood—both in a professional and technical sense. The Sheikah guardian frog with Purah’s glasses aside, the Guardian shell hanging from the roof and the ostentatiously large telescope on the roof were more eccentric than she would expect from her friend.

Link held the door open for her, and Zelda walked inside with her head on a swivel; mountains of notes and drawings and diagrams littered every surface, and a Sheikah pedestal took up most of the left half of the lab. Two Sheikah stood in a back corner by the bookshelves; an older Sheikah man held a little girl up to reach something on the top shelf. They both looked over their shoulders as the door swung shut behind Link.

Their eyes went comically wide.

“I’m back,” Link said helpfully.

 _I’m confused,_ Zelda thought. Was this…was this Purah’s _child?_ How could she be so young? Paya and Granté were both so much older! Why, this girl could hardly be more than ten years old—

The girl landed lightly on the ground and approached Zelda with wide eyes. She adjusted her large, Purah-like glasses and blinked at her silently.

Then the girl burst into loud, ugly tears.

Zelda jumped out of the way as the girl launched herself at Link and clung to his legs as she sobbed. Link’s face was more distressed than Zelda had seen it in a while; clearly, _this_ was not the sequence of events he had expected.

Zelda went to his side, and they both knelt to comfort the child. Zelda tried to make out what the girl was blubbering, but it seemed to be nonsense.

“Linkyyyy,” she wailed, “whyyy!”

“Are you _okay?”_ Link asked, bracing her shoulders. “Is something _wrong_ or are you just _being a child about this?”_

The girl swelled with rage, though her tears did not stop. “How dare you!” She swung a tiny fist at him, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. “I save y-your life a-and upgrade your Slate! And this is how y-you repay me? Linky! You didn’t warn me!” She turned to Zelda, then immediately began to bawl again.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Link said half-heartedly.

“What, like I would ever play a prank on my beloved princess!”

“Wait.” Zelda put her hands flat on the floor. _“Purah?!”_

Link nodded, and Purah tried to snap but she was crying too grotesquely to achieve the necessary coordination. Zelda stared at the little Sheikah girl and tried to compute what had just unfolded in front of her. She supposed that, really, many strange and unbelievable things had happened in the last one-hundred years. Purah de-aging into a child was just another thing to accept at face-value and move on. After all, she was primarily grateful that more people she knew were alive, period.

She still wasn’t entirely certain why Purah had reacted so violently to her presence, but she reached for her friend and embraced her regardless. “Oh, Purah, you’re alive,” she said with as much feeling as she could muster.

“And kicking!” Purah giggled wetly and hugged her tightly around her neck. It was a strange sensation to hug a child after so long, and it didn’t really compute that this was _really_ Purah. “You know, princess, I thought you’d immediately come and see all your old friends, but noooo, you only go and talk to my grumpy old sister? _Wow.”_

“You could have walked down the hill,” Link said.

“Nonsense!” Purah withdrew and wiped her eyes. “I can’t go into town like this! Those brats chase me around like maniacs! Even I don’t have that kind of energy!”

“Purah, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Zelda said earnestly. “I’m also sorry that I come with a rather inconvenient request of you. But it’s something that I couldn’t bring to Impa.”

Her words had the desired effect of igniting a passion in Purah that finally stemmed her tears. The little girl put her hands on her hips. “Name it!” she cried. “Symin and I are glad to assist you in any way we can, princess!”

Zelda readjusted herself on the ground so that she sat cross-legged, her back straight and her chin up. “I have heard from Granté and Link some of how the Yiga bolstered their ranks after the Calamity, namely by compelling an entire generation of Sheikah to forsake the Goddesses and follow Kohga. That generation then raised their own children to swear allegiance to Demise. I first have a question for you, Purah: do you believe that those children are traitors to the Sheikah?”

“You can’t be a traitor to something you were never part of,” Purah said solemnly. “But then again, princess, I hear that they’ve murdered civilians and travelers—so they might not be traitors to the _Sheikah_ , but they _are_ criminals. And the Crown has always been very clear on that.”

“Yes, well, my father’s spirit has left this plane at last, and as Queen of Hyrule I would like to set a new precedent. I believe those who were born in the dark should have a chance to walk in the light of society. That is why, when a woman dressed as a Yiga appeared to us and asked for protection from her abusers within the clan, I gave it readily.” Zelda leveled her gaze with the stoic little girl in front of her. She could not yet read Purah’s thoughts, but she hoped that her heart had remained the same even when her body had changed. “I’m not so much a fool to invite her into my home, in the event that she is an agent of darkness—but, considering your Sheikah training, I think that you could house her, heal her, keep an eye on her, protect her…and protect us, should she become a threat.”

Purah was quite an imposing picture, despite being two feet tall and wearing snot and tears on her face. She stood with her hands on her hips as Zelda spoke, and once she had finished, the little scientist remained impassive.

“Oh, princess,” she said eventually. “You know I would do anything to annoy my sister…”

 _But_ , Zelda thought with a frown.

“But hiding this from her would be a mistake. I geddit, she’d kill the poor girl on sight—but we should tell her. Don’t stir up bad blood.”

Link drew their gaze by his silence; he was somehow conspicuously staring at the floor, where he ran his fingers across the ground in an intricate drawing of nonsense. Purah stomped her foot a little, but he continued to pointedly stare at the floor.

Zelda did not wait for him to speak.

“Purah. They brutalized her. I don’t care if she is assimilated into the tribe or not—all I want is for her to be safe. And the only people I would trust to keep the Yiga’s hands off of her are the Sheikah or the Gerudo. I don’t have an isolated, capable Gerudo friend to keep her safe. I also can’t spare the only other person in the world who is capable of protecting her.”

Now she looked at Link, who looked up at her through his bangs.

“I don’t doubt she’s gonna die, princess!” Purah crossed her arms. “I’m just saying—I don’t want my sister to kill you! And my sister taught _you_ everything _you_ know, Mr. Hero, so don’t say you’ll protect her. You couldn’t.”

Link drummed his fingernails loudly. “Purah, you know that I can protect Zelda and Ceria, and Zelda from Ceria, both. We’re only here because we think you’re the only one who can help Ceria.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_

Purah’s standoffish posture vanished in an instant. Her hands dangled loosely at her sides, her shoulders slack.

“Where is she?”

“Washing it off,” Zelda said softly. “She might be waiting outside now.”

“I still think you should speak to Impa about this, but yes, absolutely, yes.”

“We can talk in the morning.” Zelda painstakingly lifted herself from the floor, using Link’s shoulder as a brace. He caught her hand, and she stopped. Their eyes met; his thumb, calloused and warm, passed over the back of her hand.

She slipped away and let Ciera in.


	34. Where Light Cannot Pierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologize for the delay!

Link stood silently with Symin in the back corner of the room while Purah, Zelda, and Ciera conversed in hushed tones about the girl’s fate. The girl’s outward injuries had completely healed—but for one. Her left eyelid drooped slightly, and Link guessed immediately that she would never recover full use of it. Beyond that, however, dressed in the unassuming garb of Hylian travelers, she looked like…no one.

Ciera did not weep, hardly spoke. Link noticed that she did not flinch when the women beside her touched her fingers in comfort and solidarity. In fact, she hardly moved. Link’s heart truly ached for her, but he was not surprised. He vividly recalled Dorian’s description of the boy Ka’loh had been, what he had done to his parents that fateful night when he had left the Sheikah.

No, Link was not surprised.

Zelda finally left Purah and Ciera on the floor of the lab and joined Link and Symin by the back door. She reached for one of Link’s hands and held it carefully in both of her own. She stared at the back of his hand for a quiet moment, slowly running her thumb over the blank skinwhere the Triforce had once glowed, in another lifetime.

“Take me to Kakariko,” she said at last. “This can’t wait until morning.”

  
They stood above the village together in the dark and let their eyes adjust. “You said you spoke to Paya,” Zelda said at last.

“Impa is grooming her to be tough, but you know that she isn’t,” Link murmured. “I told her that Impa was a military leader, but the Sheikah, and Hyrule, don’t need a military leader. We need someone who can look to the future with hope, and hope leads to forgiveness.”

“I’m going to steal that, I hope you know.”

“Do it.” Link gave her hand a squeeze. “It’ll mean more coming from you.”

“I just don’t want to argue.” Zelda’s voice was anguished. “I don’t know how to argue for someone’s human worth.” She pressed her forehead briefly against his shoulder, and in that split second, he could have sworn he _felt_ her draw strength and courage from him. He was surprised, but he was more than glad to give it. “I will not let anyone hurt Ciera. And that’s that.”

They walked down the hill instead of gliding directly to Impa’s door. With every step, Zelda stood straighter, schooled her face more, but Link sensed a growing weariness in his partner. It was late; she had had a long day with lots of hard conversations. He assumed that her conversation with Mipha had gone well, and he wished that he could ask about it—but now was not the time. He could only hope that her conversation with Impa would go as well as their conversation with Dorephan had gone.

He did not have a lot of hope.

Impa was awake and waiting for them. She seemed to sense Zelda’s somber attitude, as she did not speak as Zelda approached.

“I have accepted into my protection a defector from the Yiga,” Zelda said, point-blank. “She is of Paya’s generation, born into the clan, and I have asked Purah to care for her—and watch her. I am telling you for the sake of transparency, but also to demand one thing: she must not be harmed by the Sheikah.”

“We will not go against your will, princess,” Impa agreed immediately.

Zelda waited for the argument, the protest, the but. None came. “Thank you,” she said.

“Princess, I can see from here that you are exhausted. Please, sit and rest. You as well, Link.” They did as directed, but Zelda sat on her knees and kept her back straight. If she relaxed her spine at all, she feared she might collapse. “Traditionally, we Sheikah would not tolerate a defector, that is correct. After all, I remember Kohga, and what he convinced our children to do. They were children, but they were old enough to _decide_. I remember Ka’loh, and what he did to his parents. But I also remember what Kakariko sounded like, filled with many voices…and I do have hope that, one day, these hills will again ring with the laughter of so many Sheikah.”

Impa bowed her head, and the weights on her ceremonial hat jingled solemnly in the movement. “I know that this hope may only be fulfilled by walking a road of forgiveness. But that forgiveness cannot come from me—old crone as I am, who witnessed such terrible things done in the name of the Yiga… It must come from you, Princess Zelda, and from my granddaughter. From the hope of Hyrule.”

  
Ciera had burnt her Yiga stealth armor. The mask had not been entirely consumed, but when Link spotted it in the ashes of the fire, he crushed it under the heel of his boot before Zelda could see it.

When he turned, he found Zelda hovering at the foot of the stairs like a specter. It wasn’t that she floated per say, just that she was so clearly uncomfortable, so clearly did not want to be standing there, and her face was so mournful. Link felt it thick in the air—the need for space—and he did not approach.

Her gaze was fixed firmly on his chest; her arms were crossed over hers. “I… Would you keep watch tonight?”

His heart ached, but if his princess of words had decided that words could wait until morning, they would wait, and he would watch. He watched her retreat up the stairs and hole up under the covers until she was nothing but a ball hidden under the blankets and quilts. Link heard a shaky breath escape her, and then he turned away.

He took up his watch on the floor beneath the weapon mounts where Mipha’s trident and Revali’s bow still hung. He had a good view of the door, here, and the light of the lamp did not fall directly on his eyes, which allowed his vision to adjust to the dark. He could make out the individual shadows of leaves and branches outside the house, and they hardly stirred in the night.

He sat with the Sword that Sealed the Darkness on his lap.

 _You’ve been awfully quiet,_ he thought to her.

 _I have been listening, Master,_ she replied. _And learning. The Goddess is kind to share her thoughts with us. It is of interest to me to observe how Wisdom is grown._

_You carry lots of Wisdom, Fi._

_I store knowledge,_ Fi corrected him with a note of weariness in her voice, _and I use the Wisdom the Goddess gave me to draw conclusions from the centuries of data I have collected._

Link held the bare blade in his hands and enveloped her with the earnest sensation of his remorse.

 _Do not worry, Master. I am more than I was ever intended to be. I am capable of gratitude, and hope. It comes at the cost of experiencing loss, and longing._ The length of the blade flared bright with starlight, silver-white, and her light warmed his heart. He heard the music that had always filled her, and he remembered her—dancing on the air.

 

Zelda felt wretched. She wanted nothing more than for arms to envelop her and quell her shivering, but the thought of physical contact also made her ill. It was difficult to believe that only earlier that day she had been so excited to resume her casual physical contact with Link, to return to their open displays of affection, to feel his warmth close to her side night and day.

A chill settled in her bones despite the many blankets that covered her, and in the absence of Link’s warmth, she was consumed with guilt. She had asked him to leave her alone again, denied him his rest and his own bed. She had done that so often one hundred years ago, and he had acquiesced in silence just as he always had. She still took it for granted that he would obey her every whim, and she hated it—hated herself for depending on it. She wanted to fly down the stairs and tell him off for it; in some part of her mind, she had embraced the idea that she was going to make up for every time she had wronged him, demanded too much of him, inconvenienced him in this last life of his.

She did not get up. Instead, she wallowed.

Silent tears dripped down her nose and into her hair until she fell into a fitful sleep.

  
_Something had changed._

 _Her first thought was that Link must have done something to particularly enrage the Beast, but this did not feel like the Calamity’s reaction to the Windblight’s defeat. No, this was something she had not felt from the Demon in many, many years: dark, disgusting,_ frothing _glee._

_Before she could investigate further, it sank its claws into her and dragged her to its darkest depths. It did not want her to interfere with its plan._

_The White Goddess burned it with her radiance, but it dug in obstinately despite its pain. Whatever it was attempting, it seemed determined to see it through no matter the cost to its strength._

**YOU GIVE THE BOY STRENGTH…THEN I WILL ROB YOU BOTH OF REST.**

_It thrust her into a semblance of mortality and dragged her to the deepest, darkest parts of the castle where her screams could echo back to her own ears and amplify her suffering. She had known pain like this only a few times in her long existence: it was piercing, it was burning, it was all-consuming—but it was not continuous. It withdrew and rushed in again, filled her with the Hatred that was the antithesis of her being._

_She fought it with all of her strength, but it was relentless. The Demon tore into her like the beast it was, and it relished the agony it caused with its tendrils of Malice inside of her, its fangs of Hatred embedded in her flesh. She was powerless against the onslaught, and she could not rip herself away from the gruesome sensations, the violation of her corporeal form, try as she might to meditate._

**THERE ARE PLACES WHERE LIGHT CANNOT PIERCE THE DARKNESS…**

_She cried out desperately through the haze of pain and darkness. If her Light could not pierce this darkness, she had only one hope for what could._

Link…!

Link…!

_She felt his sharp mind turn to her instantly._

“Zelda.”

 _His voice was like a_ balm _._

“I hear you.”

_And with the clarity of his voice came a vision of what Ganon had intended for him. Instantly, the Demon was on her back, prying her jaw open to fill it with curses. But her words did not come from a mortal mouth; they came from her unblemished heart, and they spoke directly to her Hero’s. Nevertheless, it took much of her strength to concentrate only on her Hero’s blue gaze and not on the violation of her holy form._

Be on your guard! _she cried desperately._ Ganon’s power grows…! It rises to its peak under the hour of a Blood Moon. By its glow, the aimless spirits of those slain in the name of Light return to flesh!!

_The Calamity in its grotesque, chimeric form, rose above her. For a moment, the Goddess was consumed in memories of that first battle, when the Demon King had stood above her with his flaming sword and—_

Link…please be careful.

  
Zelda woke with a gasp. Her nightdress was plastered to her body with sweat, and her hair clung close to her face and neck. She felt bound by the threads, by the weight of the blankets layered upon her, so she threw them off; in their absence, she found herself shivering without cease. She could not forget the terrible sensations Gannon had given her—and not for the first time. Perhaps this was why she never remembered being the Goddess in any of her lives. She simply wasn’t as strong as Link; she was incapable of remembering the pain of her previous lives—and deaths.

For she had remembered, in a blur of sensation and emotion, her first death: the death of the White Goddess Hylia. The death that started it all.

Her chest heaved with breaths that stuck in her throat. The emotions alone were enough to drown her, but it was the sensations of hands on her body, of swords in her chest, of—

Zelda flew out of bed; she could hardly recall running down the stairs before Link caught her in his arms.

She looped her arms under his and dug her fingers into his shoulder blades. Link’s strong arms encompassed her and held her so tightly that she could not shiver, though her body tried. She gasped quietly into his chest and tried to fight the tumult inside of her. She wanted to replace every memory of that monster, and every vile thing it had done to her, with something, _anything_ else, but she did not have the strength inside of her to do so. Not now.

Her knees gave way, and Link sank to the floor with her. She curled up in his arms and tried to explain herself and apologize all at once. Perhaps her words were unintelligible, or perhaps Link did not process them—or perhaps he did, but thought that silence was the best response. Regardless, he rocked her in silence and did not question her.

At some point, she fell back asleep against his chest, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. She did not dream, and when she woke, she felt refreshed, if a bit stale and stiff.

Zelda could not tell if Link had dozed off himself, for one moment his breaths were deep under her ear, and the next, he was most certainly awake.

“Did you win your freedom?” he asked softly.

She sighed in response and tucked herself closer to him. “Have you?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It takes time. And as you know, it can be easy to let the ghost of pain consume you.” He adjusted his grip on her shoulder so that he could use one hand to push her hair back behind her ear. “Zelda… I remember every failure, every time I didn’t protect you from him. I wish _you_ didn’t. I’m sorry.”

His voice was husky with the pain and depth of emotion behind his words, and Zelda’s heart fell to her stomach. It was true. She had never considered that this as part of her lot; it had not occurred to her that Link had not been the only one subjected to torture and gruesome ends. It had been silly of her to think that the burden her lives would be limited to mere melancholy. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it, considering that he had fallen in front of her, bled out in her arms, and left her to face the Demon alone. She knew he had fallen before, and she hadn't always triumphed as she had now.

Link squeezed her again, and she recognized that she had left him with his thoughts a moment too long.

“Link,” she said, “if either of us are going to keep apologizing for anything, it _must_ be me. How many times have I let you die for me?” She turned so that their foreheads touched. “And I’m sorry for kicking you out of your bed.”

“Right, I’m not accepting anymore apologies from you.”

His eyes glimmered with good humor, and she was mesmerized by them and the golden lashes that framed them. Lost in their depths, some of her desperation and her queasiness dissipated. She took a deep, controlled breath and released it slowly, causing Link’s bangs to flutter. She tried to adopt a light-hearted tone. “I am going to bathe, and then I think I should head up the hill to check on Ciera and catch up with Purah.”

“Would you like me to walk you through town?”

Zelda thought for a moment. “No,” she said, “but I won’t come back down without you.”

Link left to see where the horses had wandered off to and have them sent back to Hateno. They would need them if they were to head to Death Mountain in a timely fashion without the use of the Slate. Zelda hoped, as she watched Link fade into aura, that they would receive word from Hudson and Rhondson before the horses arrived.

Zelda chucked her clothes into a corner and stepped into the warm water of the bath. The moment she was fully immersed, she became acutely aware of how sore she really was. She felt battered, but her skin was unmarked; it angered her, more than anything, that she had banished the Calamity from this dimension and yet even the memory of its evil could hurt her. She was particularly upset at the pain between her legs, in her thighs, and in her abdomen.

She scrubbed away the sweat and as much of her disgust as possible, then settled back in the water to let the heat soak away her aches. She ran her hands through her hair to untangle it in the meantime, but it felt so good to scratch her scalp and massage her neck that she continued absentmindedly.

She tried to think if she had ever before felt so strange in her own skin. Before the Calamity, she had certainly felt uncomfortable in it. Her mother had died when she was still a child; Purah of all people had been the one to explain her changing physiology and crassly describe all of the consequences. Urbosa had elaborated, and in her Gerudo way told her that the beauty she inherited from her mother was another kind of Golden Power. Unfortunately…another Golden Power she had no idea how to use.

Zelda had looked at the Gerudo, looked at the Sheikah, and considered their bodies to be alien—something that wasn’t in her blood. But she had spent weeks in the desert training with the sword, surfing across the sands; she had climbed mountains and jumped off them. The evidence of it was in her very skin: freckles dusted her shoulders and forearms; her arms weren’t a single long unit anymore, she had biceps. There were muscles now defined in her legs that she didn’t know existed.

She rested her hands on her belly, then let them float to the surface of the water. Her body was still soft, her stomach still curved, but it felt right. She did not feel slow and heavy and clumsy. She did not feel like a weight that other, more capable people had to drag around. _Free_.

She had remembered what it felt like to be the Zelda of Twilight: lean from anxiety and sharp like a blade. She had stood so tall, to be intimidating, in a way she could hardly hope to now. Not that she needed to be intimidating anymore. Or would she?

It would be her hand that felled her enemies, and the enemies of her people. It would be her hand that rose to protect them, too. She didn’t think that she would like to be tall or intimidating—particularly, not after meeting Ciera. _The Goddess statues have wings…under which she shelters Her people._

She reached behind her to feel her shoulder blades. There was muscle there, too, but no wings.

_Thank the Three._

Zelda ducked under the water and let her hands sink between her legs at last.


	35. Belief.

She left the bath tingling in the aftermath of her release. It had served its purpose: to feel out the edges of her existence, remind her of her mortal form, where she ended and the world began. Upon reflection, she had taken a warning from her dream of being the Goddess: she had been _everywhere_ , in _everything_ , even when she had been confined. That was what it meant to be this land’s guardian, and in her vigil inside the Beast it had been a natural form to take. The Goddess had been awake, the culmination of all that the Goddess had ever been and was—but now, Zelda sought to awaken the Goddess…but still remain _Zelda_. She wasn’t convinced that she would be able to handle it so well, now.

It had helped, to convince herself that this body was hers, that she was unique. The nerve endings in her fingertips and intimate places and along her spine could feel things of their own, not memories of sensations and not sensations that were her land’s.

Zelda wondered if there was anyone who could help articulate this predicament. Maybe Link could, but maybe not. He had told her he doubted she’d become omniscient—but what if she did? How would she handle knowledge of _everything?_ How would she remember to be a girl, when she was also wind and water and everything else?

Zelda crossed the bridge and went into town wearing her stealth armor under her traveling clothes. She did feel safe in Hateno, but she knew better than to let her guard down completely. The chest guard provided only a thin layer of protection, but it would be enough to stop a long-range attack like one from an archer…maybe. Regardless, it gave her the confidence to walk into town alone and face the gossip-mongers and children who had already begun their days.

She had left her hair down to dry, and she had chosen her more unobtrusive outfits to perhaps allow her to pass through the village without notice. Her undershirt was rumbled and gray, and she had pushed up the sleeves on her arms to keep the excess fabric out of the way. The tunic paired with it was dark, dusky blue—nowhere near the shade of blue she _usually_ wore—and hung down nearly to her knees; cinching it at the waist imparted it with a slightly more feminine silhouette despite its bulk. She wore a shawl over it all and let it trail in the back to disguise her sword, which she made sure she could still draw unencumbered.

Dressed in such a way, she hoped no eyes would follow her, but it was as though she was dressed in gold and Hylian blue. The women stared at her from the laundry trough and from the doorways they swept, and the children who ran around a corner and caught a glimpse of her clung to each other, whispering.

A small boy with a stick tied across his back trotted toward her. She felt compelled to stop and speak with him.

“You’re Link’s friend,” the boy stated.

“Yes. Are you one of his friends as well?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Yes! Has he mentioned me? I’m Nebb!”

Zelda recalled the chatter of the women behind the laundry just a week or so ago, about how Link had shown Nebb the Sword of Legend. “Oh yes,” she said. “He has spoken about you, Nebb.”

“My mom talks about him _all_ the time.” Nebb put his hands on his hips and jerked his head toward the laundry station, where his mother turned bright red and whirled around to hide her face. “She says he’s just an adventurer, but I think he’s the Hero! You know him, right? What do you think?”

Zelda bent a little so that she could speak in a hushed tone, but as she did so she was keenly aware of the eyes still upon her; it was only the memory of Dorephan’s words that gave her the conviction to take the first step on this dangerous path.

“Link is indeed the Hero who wields the Master Sword, Nebb. But you knew that, didn’t you? In your heart, you knew you were right, no matter what your mother said.”

Nebb’s eyes shone. “Link was the one who beat the evil castle!”

Zelda was amused by Nebb’s misunderstanding, but she imagined that that might be an even greater story, had it been true. “There was an evil spirit inside the castle, and Link defeated it,” she replied. “Now the castle is good again, and—”

“And the princess is free, I know. My mom was talking to her friends about _that_. I think she might believe that more than she believes in Link.”

Zelda raised an eyebrow at that. “Really now.”

“Link has a Sword, so of course he’s the Hero,” Nebb explained, “but a princess needs a fancy horse and a crown and a dress and stuff.”

Zelda’s eyebrows had neared her hairline. She straightened up a little and cast her gaze about for some of Nebb’s friends, to teach them a lesson. She had never worn a crown before as princess—that was reserved for the Queen. And Goddesses knew she liked her trousers as much as her fancy dresses. “Children, friends, come here please. I would like to ask you a question.”

A moment later, all of the village children were circled around her. Their grubby faces were turned up to face her, each and every one. “Nebb just told me that a princess needs a fancy horse, and a crown, and dresses. I was wondering if anyone else had heard that?”

Many of the children nodded. “That’s what my mumma said.” One of the little girls popped a dirty finger into her mouth.

“That is interesting to me. Have you ever heard of a _king?”_

The children shook their heads.

“What about a queen?”

Again, most of the children had not heard of such a thing.

“Follow me, then. I would like to tell you a story.”

Zelda led the crowd of children through town and to the mayor’s house, where the Goddess Statue sat in a shrine. Apples covered the ground before her, and many of the kids picked one up to munch on as Zelda took a seat on a rock beside the statue. She noticed that some of their mothers had decided to tend to some other duties close by, like sweeping leaves from the stairs—a good place to eavesdrop.

She took a breath. “The Golden Goddesses created Hyrule in an age long past, but then they needed to rest. They asked their daughter, Hylia, to become a goddess herself and watch over all of Hyrule. Do we know that story? Good, good. Then you also must know that Hylia fought a great evil that wanted to destroy Hyrule, and though she was triumphant, she was also mortally wounded in her battle. Her Three Mothers heard her prayers and woke once more to ask what she wanted. Did she want to live forever? Did she want to become a spirit?”

“No!” a little girl cried. “She wanted to be a Hylian!”

“A mortal, yes.” Zelda nodded. “She said that she would do whatever it took to keep Hyrule safe, forever and ever. So the Golden Ones granted her wish and allowed her to become a mortal girl, who would live among her people and protect them. From the land in the sky to the time of the Great Flood until today, Hyrule has always had a mortal woman protecting it. She is called the Queen, and it is usually her job to make sure that no Hylian goes hungry, no traveler is unsafe on the roads, and that peace is kept throughout the land. She protects her people from evil, whether it be evil people or evil spirits or evil demons. But when she is very young, like you all are, and still learning how to do her mother’s job, she is called a princess.”

Zelda folded her hands on her lap. “You know who else fights evil demons?”

“Knights!”

“The Hero!”

“Priests!”

“Yes, you are all correct.” Zelda smiled at all of them gathered at her feet. She surely had their undivided attention—even Nebb, who had still seemed a little skeptical at the direction of the conversation. “Do any of them need fancy things to fight evil? Do any of them need to wear dresses?”

“No!”

“A princess of Hyrule doesn’t need those things either. She doesn’t need a castle or a horse or a crown to do the things that make her a princess. She must only have the blood of the Goddess within her and the courage to help her people.” Zelda fixed her gaze on Nebb. “Sometimes that means she must wield a sword of her own, and fight at the Hero’s side. Sometimes that means she must pray, like a priest, and battle evil in spirit. Sometimes she must simply listen to her Mothers and the needs of her people. But she could dress whatever way she wants to do any of those things. Do any of you _need_ to wear dresses to listen to your mothers?”

The kids laughed heartily. “I didn’t think so! But perhaps you aren’t listening to your mothers at all! You’re covered in dirt, I’m sure they won’t appreciate that when they go back to their laundry.”

She received some more laughter, which made her smile, and a few impish stuck-out tongues and raspberries, which made her smile even wider. “Well, that’s my story. I would like to hear each of your names. I’ve already met my friend Nebb.”

The kids chimed in with their names, and she committed each face and name to memory in the way she had mastered as a princess. She thanked each of them for coming to listen to her. “My name is Zelda,” she told them. “I live with Link. If you ever see us and want to hear another story or ask us anything, you are more than welcome to.”

She waved at them as they ran off to continue playing or begin their chores. She wondered if their mothers would come up the stairs to speak to her, but none of them did. She would need to wait—or maybe to spy—in order to find out what they thought of her.

The door beside the Goddess statue opened.

“Ah, I wondered if you may be the storyteller,” the man said lightly. “I’m Reede. I don’t think I had the pleasure of meeting you wen you first came to town, and every time I went over to Link’s place to say hello, the windows were dark. Do you have a moment to enjoy some Hateno hospitality?”

Zelda nodded and followed Reede inside the long house. Clearly it was a gathering place for the village, and she assumed then that Reede must be their leader. In the old days, Hateno had had a lord with many young sons who were of appropriate marrying age—but Reede did not seem like a lord. More of a mayor.

“Tea?”

“Please, thank you.”

Reede poured some hot water into a small ceramic cup and handed it to her. Zelda watched the color leach out of the leaves at the bottom like tendrils of smoke, and she wondered idly how this conversation was going to go. The persistent string of important conversations was reminding her of how exhausting responsibility could be—and there would only be more from here on out…

“The village has been buzzing with rumors about you,” Reede admitted, joining her across the table with his own cup of tea. “I think you and I both have an interest in dispelling them, if they’re not true.”

“That’s probably wise.”

“So then, what’s your name, really?”

Zelda looked up from her tea. Reede’s face was open and pleasant. “It is Zelda.”

“Like the princess.”

“No.” Zelda kept his gaze without compromise. “Not _like.”_ When Reede’s eyebrows rose and silence fell between them, Zelda herself wasn’t sure where the conversation should go. But she would not be compelled to pour out her story unbidden, and she was curious about the rumors Reede had heard about her… “I am not lying, and I will not lie to you, Reede. So ask me what questions you have, and I will answer.” She sipped at her tea, though it was still scalding and had not finished steeping. She hoped it made her look relaxed.

Reede exhaled slowly and leaned his forearms across the table. She guessed that he hadn’t been prepared for the conversation to go down this route, either. And why would he have expected someone to claim to be a princess in his town, anyway?

“I wasn’t sure what to think about Link when he first came to town,” he admitted. “He didn’t talk much, and he had this look about him like he was raised by wolves. But he was a gifted swordsman and saved two of our merchants from bokoblins in the forest, and then he helped Bolson gather some of the finest wood for his construction. The only time he ever seemed to be in town was to repair his armor and buy out Pruce’s stock of bomb arrows. But we all liked him. He would play with the village children and tell them to stay out of trouble, and they’d listen. He helped out with some errands around town and even dealt with the raiders who kept stealing our livestock. Everyone was happy that he had decided to make our village his home, even if we didn’t really understand him.

“When the kids started calling him ‘Hero,’ we all laughed at it.” Reede tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the tabletop. “None of us, myself included, ever considered that the Calamity would ever leave the castle, let alone leave _Hyrule_ , but by all accounts the Fields are safe to cross and the Sheikah have appeared in Castle Town. Bolson even tells me he’s going to move out there to expand his business.”

Zelda blinked at him silently, and though she kept her face pleasant and patient, her thoughts were anything but. _So?_ she thought. _What do you believe?_

“I heard your story out there,” Reede said. “I have a story of my own. It’s not as popular as the version that gets told outside of town, but my grandmother told me that it wasn’t the Hero that felled all those Guardians on Blatchery Plain.”

Reede looked out the window, as though he were aware of how awkward it was to speak of the princess when she sat across from him.

“The Hero failed. His sword may have had the power to seal the darkness, but the princess alone had the light that could drive it back. It was because of her that the Guardians never made it to Hateno, and it was _her light_ that ensured the dragon in the castle could never leave it. And you know what, I saw it with my own eyes, raging against the walls and spires—I thought it would surely break out, but a golden light shone from deep inside, and the dragon withered. I knew then that the story had to be true: there was someone, or something, holding the Calamity back to protect Hyrule.”

“What do you want to _know_ , Reede?” Zelda asked.

“What does a princess mean for life in Hateno?”

Zelda laughed. “Not much for now,” she said. “Someday, it will mean taxes, so that we can maintain the safety of the roads and stables. It will mean wide-open trade routes all across Hyrule. It will mean more employment for tailors and jewelers and smiths, more income for farms and towns… But that is a long way from today. To many, there is no and never was any princess of Hyrule.”

Reede nodded slowly. “The rumors are getting to a point where I won’t be able to stop them from spreading outside the village.”

“Then tell them to me, and we can choose which to quash and which to feed.” Zelda took another sip of her tea. “I’ve already heard several while Link and I were on the road.”

  
Zelda left the long house with the tips of her ears burning with annoyance and embarrassment. Reede was right not to tell her who had come up with each of those damn rumors, because Zelda would have sought them out and killed them if she could. Instead, she traipsed up the hill to Purah’s house and tried to tell herself that Reede was going to put an end to the worst of them.

She still wasn’t exactly sure what the consequences of her conversation with Reede would be. He may have told the truth about believing in the magical princess in the castle, but she wasn’t certain that he believed in _her_ quite yet. All the more reason to seek out the Triforce as quickly as possible…

When she reach the top of the hill, she paused to look out at the sea. Her shawl and her hair fluttered in the breeze that came down from Mount Lanayru, and she lost herself to the bitter memory that lay at its peak.

  
_He was silent and somber as ever as she led the way up the mountain. She knew how much he disapproved of this latest effort. He had said as much on Safula Hill. It was the only time he had ever spoken back to her—ever raised his voice._

_Now, there was no voice to be heard but the wail of the wind._

_Pillars of solid ice rose about them, just as her mother had told her. Mount Lanayru was crowned in ice, a reminder that nobility sprang from Wisdom and Wisdom alone. They did not remind Zelda of anything but prison bars._

_As they drew close to the Spring, Zelda felt something different than she had at any of the others. There was something new in the air, something that she had sensed a few times in her life: in the wake of Urbosa’s lightning, and in the air after Revali summoned his gale, and on skin that Mipha had healed. It had to be magic._

_This was meant to be her patron; the Triforce of Wisdom had once been entrusted to the daughters of Hyrule’s royal line. She had embraced that fact, as a scholar, but lately she had realized how different_ knowledge _and_ wisdom _were…_

_Link set up her changing station as soon as the Spring came into view. He strung a rope between two pillars of ice and hung an opaque cloth over it, then weighed down the edges with stones. He unpacked her ceremonial dress, sandals, and jewelry, and then immediately made a fire and began to melt ice and warm her bedroll. She would need the warmth sooner or later._

_Once set up, he unhooked the Master Sword from his back and took his place, back turned, ears perked for danger._

_Zelda hated the feeling of stripping her Rito-down garments away from her heated skin and allowing the icy winds to embrace her. Dressed in that cursed dress, she felt exposed not only to the wind but the judgment of the Goddess. That was the point, she supposed._

_Zelda left her clothes folded beside the fire and strode resolutely into the water of the Spring._

_To her utmost surprise, the water was warm._

_She nearly turned to tell Link, but she reminded herself of her solemn duty and kept her eyes focused on the Goddess statue. She approached it, her gaze locked on that featureless face, and found the stone dais that was her station._

_Her poise did not last long._

_“Please, Goddess Hylia, take mercy on me and give me your power,” she pleaded. “I have turned my back on despair and taken hold of my faith…faith in you. Your wings shelter your people, but I want to do the same! Please, just let me!”_

_No divine voice spoke to her. No mystical guardian spirit appeared. The magic in the air simply hummed and pulsed._

_Zelda hauled herself out of the water and onto the little shelf where offerings might be left for the Goddess. She stared into the blank stone that was the Goddess’s face. “What am I missing? What have I not had the Wisdom to see?”_

_She felt a tug on her dress, and she bristled for a moment, thinking that perhaps Link had snuck up on her to distract her once again from her prayers. When she looked down, however, she saw nothing but her own reflection._

_She hugged her bare shoulders and turned to find Link; he remained stoic, his back to her, his hands on the pommel of the legendary Sword. The wind had shifted slightly, and her dress, her hair, was pulled toward him on the breeze._

_Tears pricked her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She clasped her hands under her chin and stared at his back as she tried to parse what the universe was trying to tell her. Was it that she needed to be more pliable, more willing to serve, like her Champion was? Was it that he held the Wisdom she sought?_

_She had never asked him._

_She was afraid for the answer._

_“D-do…do you know, Link?”_

_He turned to face her. His face was as impassive as ever, so carefully blank of judgment or frustration or pity. But it was all in his eyes._

_Zelda could hardly summon her voice. She would surrender it all, here and now. She had no alternatives._

_“What should I do?”_

_A muscle in his jaw clenched momentarily. Then, he let the Sword clatter to the ground. The sound was cacophonous in the silence of the Spring; it seemed that even the ice beneath their feet would be split by the Sacred Blade. Zelda stared at him, pleaded with him, as he made his way into the water and stood at her feet._

_For a moment, she felt something rise deep within her; it was not lost on her that he stood before her as a pilgrim to the Spring might, as_ she _had just stood, to make a plea to the Goddess._

_Zelda met his eyes, the deep blue of them. She had looked at him in the Spring of Power and seen it, the age behind those eyes. She had believed him when he said they were cursed, that she had to trust that the cycle would continue as it always had…_

_She felt dizzy._

_A thought crossed her mind, ever so briefly:_ I want him to worship me.

_She wanted to quash it, to step on that thought, but something in his eyes stopped her._

_He already did._

  
Zelda was surprised to catch a glimpse of Naydra in the distance, winding around the back of the mountain and off over the sea.

When she raised her hand to open the door of the Tech Lab, she saw a wink of gold.


	36. Rumors.

Zelda strode into Purah’s domain and cast her gaze about for Ciera.

“Relax, she’s sleeping upstairs!”

She didn’t immediately locate the source of Purah’s voice, but after wandering in the general direction of a particularly unsteady tower of notebooks and loose paper and Guardian cogs, she found the little researcher lying fully on the table, writing dense notes on some topic or another. She closed the book before Zelda could see its contents, and she barrel-rolled over the edge of the table and slid down the bench until she stood on her feet. She was still a few feet shorter than Zelda.

“It’s pretty bad, princess,” she said. The serious tone did not suit her new appearance at all, but Zelda appreciated the gravity of the situation and was glad for Purah’s momentary maturity. “I could just see, there’s something inside her that’s broken. She’s like an empty hull.”

Zelda sat beside Purah on the bench. “I spoke to Impa. She was much more understanding than I had anticipated.”

“Huh. Maybe I haven’t seen her in a while, because that doesn’t sound like the sister I know.” Purah tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe she’s getting sentimental in her old age.”

“I believe you’re on the right track,” Zelda said.

“Well, I’m still young enough to hold grudges! Not for Ciera, of course. But that damn Hero of yours! He promised to bring me more Ancient parts, but ever since Robbie started making _armor_ , that’s all he wants to trade his cores for! Blasted arrows!” Purah sat heavily on the tabletop by Zelda’s shoulder and crossed her arms. “I don’t even charge _rupees_ for my services!”

“I can make sure he brings you some. We both owe you for your kindness, Purah. And I don’t anticipate we’ll need many more ancient arrows, not for a while.” Zelda smiled a little. “Purah, do you know, is there anything I can do for Ciera? I anticipate that I will be in town for a little while longer.”

Purah dropped her chin. “I need to feel it out a little more. For now, I want to give her a project. Something really consuming, to occupy her thoughts and wear her out so it’s easier to sleep at night… I think it’ll mean that I have to leave the lab for a bit, do some field research again.”

“Do you have a project in mind?”

“Vaguely.” Purah reached for the top of the book stack behind her and pulled a loose sheet of paper from between a notebook’s pages. The motion nearly sent the entire tower toppling, but Zelda steadied it in time with one hand. The golden light had not returned to the back of it, but that was okay for now.

Purah unfolded the paper and revealed a large drawing of a pattern that Zelda recognized, vaguely, from the interior of a Shrine—not one that she had been in, but from a photo Link had taken. It was a rambling, swirly design that incorporated notable features of Hyrule’s landscape, such as Death Mountain and Spectacle Rock, and the Divine Beasts that had taken up roost there.

“I heard from Impa what you did in Gerudo Town, and it got me thinking.” Purah adjusted her glasses. “The Divine Beasts were originally created to protect a region of Hyrule and the people who lived there, right? That’s why you’re returning ownership of them, which I think is silly, by the way. We could do _so_ much more research on them! But there’s no Divine Beast for our neck of the woods, or for central Hyrule or even a big stretch of western Hyrule. Or is there?” She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“Where would you even begin, looking for another Divine Beast?”

“The Royal Archives.” Purah set the drawing back aside and clasped her hands in her lap. “I heard Granté was there and asked him to dig up some scrolls for me. I’ve been looking over them, and I think that there might be something on the Plateau…the Temple of Time is so old, you know…and I know the Yiga don’t like to go there. It’d be a rough time getting there and toughing out the wilderness, but I think that might be good for her.”

Zelda thought so as well. Link often said that they had all the time in the world, and yet they hardly let themselves exist outside the Divine directive they had been given. She did not want to dwell on the consequence too much. They were not damaged. Not the way Ciera was.

“I think you may be right,” she said, “but you must promise me something, Purah… Until you trust that she is not a spy… She must not know of the secret to Link’s resurrection.”

“What do you think I am, princess? A fool? I am Sheikah! Suspicion is in my blood.” Purah snickered.

“I don’t know, a lot has changed since I last saw you.” Zelda turned to sit cross-legged on the bench and look up at Purah more intently. “Link kept his word and didn’t tell me _anything_ about how you came to be this way, so you must tell me.”

“I was thinking ahead, of course,” Purah said as though that held the entire answer to her youthful appearance. “Look at Impa and Robbie, they’re old farts now, but a lot of your surviving knights were even older! I thought that maybe once Link woke up, he’d need an army to beat the Calamity. Of course, that boy is a one-man army himself, thanks to Impa’s _brutal_ training—honestly, he was just a kid! But I guess it turned out for the best… But I thought he’d need an army, so I thought, hey, maybe I could just make the remainder of your army young again!” Purah snapped her fingers brilliantly, but Zelda was too dizzy from whiplash to notice. “I didn’t think it was right to experiment on some old knight, so I did it to myself! And it worked! Too well. First day, I woke up and it was great. I was a woman again and not a crone! But the next day I was even younger, which was also great because then I was _beautiful_ again but it just kept going. Believe me, I did _not_ enjoy being your age, princess! I had the worst complexion ever!”

“But it stopped eventually?”

“Thank the Three, yes,” Purah gasped. “Can you imagine, silly old Symin raising me again from _infancy?!_ My intellect would never survive, I’m sure.”

Zelda frowned. “Who is Symin, anyway? You seem to think awfully low of him.”

“Each of us took a student, in case any of us died before Link woke up. Paya held all of Impa’s knowledge, in case Link needed it. I trained Symin in all the ways of the Slate. And Robbie was training his student to make ancient weapons and stuff, but then he went and married her!” Purah shook her head. “Their kid turned out alright, but I think Robbie is a little coocoo these days.”

“Really? Grante seems perfectly normal, you’re right. You said you saw him recently?”

“Yeah.” Purah reached behind her again and grabbed a scroll. “Look at this!”

Zelda recognized the artistry as being similar to the ancient Sheikah tapestry that told the story of the First Calamity. However, this scroll illustrated something she had only just discovered recently. She snatched it out of Purah’s hands—the edges crumbled a bit, but she did not notice. Around the perimeter of the paintings were words that were already familiar to her:

_For the Lightning King of the Desert, the Goddess-Blood Princess chose from the Gerudo, who walked the sands with Confidence and commanded Strength like the gods._

_For the Divine Oliphant, a Zora was chosen, with Wisdom and Compassion equal to Her own._

_From the shadows of Death Mountain, the Divine Salamander was given a Goron with everlasting Faith and Loyalty to the land._

_In the tundra, the Goddess-Blood Princess found a Rito, Vigilant and Fierce as the White One Herself, to watch with the Divine Raptor._

The Helms of the Pilots were just as she had created: Ruta’s articulated nose and wide eyes; Naboris’s spines and flat face. She had not yet created the helms for Rudania or Medoh, but Rudania’s Helm opened like a flower, or a cobra’s hood, and Medoh’s crest was tall and fierce and its beak sharp.

The scroll continued, but the words had been faded and water-damaged. Zelda could hardly make out the flow of the sentence, but she saw enough.

“Purah, this is incredible,” she whispered. “This has been my quest, since my return. I have made these in my own hands and given them to Chief Riju and Prince Sidon.” She looked up at her friend with sparkling eyes. “This will be so helpful! Now I know what to look for when I go to Rudania and Medoh!”

“But you saw the rest, right? What do you think? Do you know what I’m gonna look for on the Plateau?”

“No,” Zelda said, “but I had a vision! I think you’re right, you’ll find something in the Temple of Time.” She rolled up the scroll carefully and handed it back to her friend. “I wish I could join you. As soon as you find anything, you must alert me.”

Purah held two fingers up to her eyes coquettishly and winked. “Anything to please my princess! Alright, so I’ve given you some juicy details, now you’ve got to give me some! Are you being safe with Linky?”

Zelda nodded. “I’ve learned how to use a sword and shield, Purah! And fight like a Sheikah, to an extent. It’s exhilarating, really. I so wish my father had allowed me to train with you and Impa growing up—” There was an amused look on Purah’s face, and Zelda felt heat shoot up her neck and into her cheeks. “That’s not what you were asking, was it?”

“OF COURSE NOT!” Purah cackled maniacally; she doubled over and slapped her little knee, and Zelda frowned. She had been mortified by the rumors in Hateno about her and Link, and now here was her _friend_ asking along the same lines…clearly enjoying how embarrassing the situation was.

“I have taken the necessary precautions,” she said flatly, “but there has been no reason so far.”

“But you were thinking about it!” Purah threw up her hands in exaltation. “Impa and I had bets going for how long it would take the two of you, but that was _one hundred years ago_ …so I don’t know which one of us won. But I’m going to say me! Tell me all about it, Zelda!”

Zelda put her face in her hands to feel the extent of her blush. It was searing hot. “Purah, things are very complicated. I’m remembering past lives where I was an…experienced woman, and those eyes he has…they’re the same as they have always been. But at the same time, I’m seventeen! I never kissed a man until a few weeks ago!”

“We _all_ think we’re experienced women,” Purah said wryly. “You read the textbooks and you listen to some Gerudo vulgarities and then _bam_ , you think you know what you’re doing.” She couldn’t be serious for long and resumed giggling. “But you still haven’t told me anything!”

Zelda groaned. She wanted to melt to the floor, but she would have been lying to herself if she said she hadn’t known this was going to happen. “Fine, Purah! Fine.”

  
Link stood on the Travel Gate and whistled for the horses again.

He had heard them in the distance, but when they didn’t show up in a timely manner he assumed they had gotten lost or stuck; this time, when he whistled, the thunder of their hooves came closer. He felt the beat of it in his blood.

He ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped off, landing squarely on Prayer’s back.

She had brambles in her mane, but she was pleased to see him and unharmed. Likewise, temperamental Lanayru was muddy but untouched by the elements or by evil doers.

Link spun Prayer around and aimed her for the road, but he heard the approach of another horse and held Prayer up in her tracks. She snorted, and Lanayru stomped his hoof, but they waited for the horseman to reach them. Link did not often meet people on horseback, particularly on the road _toward_ the Domain. Merchants knew better than to leave their horses alone at the mouth of the Zora River and so didn’t bring them there in the first place.

The horse who approached was outfitted in steel armor, and the man upon his back wore armor that matched the emblems on his livery. The horse was from finer stock than Prayer and perhaps rivaled Lanayru’s heritage, but it was dark and fearsome while Lanayru was dignified and imposing.

Link remembered immediately that a child had warned him of such a rider; a man had crossed the bridge to Tabantha and stopped at the stable there, claiming to be a Royal Guardsman with his armor and his matching horse. The child had whispered to Link, however, that she was certain the man was a thief.

He did not reach for his Sword, but his fingers twitched. He would be ready.

The man pulled up his horse at a fair distance from Link, Prayer, and Lanayru, and raised the visor of his helm. Link could not make out his features well, but he saw the man was fair-haired and tan, but not dark.

“Morning,” Link called. “Need something?”

“I was just curious,” the man called back. “I saw the white one and was intrigued by the saddle. Beautiful horse you got there.”

Link nudged Prayer into a careful approach, but he was aware that Lanayru did not immediately follow. The horse was appropriately suspicious, and likely ready to bolt for safety at a moment’s notice. “I found him near Saladin Park,” Link said casually.

“Ah, so he’s the same mule I tried to catch after all.” The man chuckled. “And a little one like you broke him? I don’t believe it.”

Link stopped Prayer; he had a good enough view of the man’s face now, and he was fairly certain that he was not dealing with a Yiga assassin in disguise. That perplexed him, and it did not make him feel less uneasy. “I don’t break my horses,” he said slowly. “I earn their trust and they join me of their own volition. What’s your name, stranger?”

“I am Savelle, a Knight of Hyrule. I assume you’re the swordsman they call Link?” Link kept his face stony and did not reply. “They speak of him everywhere: Traysi, Beedle, the stable owners… Yes, I think you’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

Link nearly reached for the Sword; she vibrated in resonance with his anxiety, but she did not speak. She was ready, should the need arise.

“If you think you’ve found him, what do you want?”

Savelle removed his helm entirely and shook out his sweaty golden hair. “I would like to join you, Hero. My great grandfather was a deserter during the Calamity, and my family has suffered from ill luck every since. I swore on my mother’s grave that I would break the deserter’s curse and dedicate myself to a life of honor…and I can think of no better way to do so than to follow the Hero.”

Link was struck speechless. Several hot emotions flashed through him, but a sudden thought hit him.

“Follow me to the stable, then, Savelle. Share a meal with me and tell me your story.”

He urged Prayer into a gallop, and Lanayru followed like a whirlwind.

In the distance, he heard Savelle utter an unbelieving, joyful, _“Yes!”_

 

“Please send them on to Hateno for me,” Link told the stable owner.

“First thing in the morning, then. You should expect them in about a week or so, if the weather stays this good.”

Link thanked him and went to the cooking pot to begin making lunch. It wasn’t long before Savelle’s black steed came into view down the road. By the time the man had watered his horse and approached Link, the meal was ready, and he had some to offer.

Savelle accepted it gratefully.

“Alright, tell me more about this curse.”

“As I heard it, my great-grandfather was a knight stationed at the Trading Post,” Savelle began. “He saw the wave of Guardians coming from the castle, but rather than alert his fellow knights and soldiers and the merchants at the post, he stole a fast horse and fled across the Bridge of Hylia all the way to Lurelin. A seres of misfortunes then plagued him. Lost all of his money. House burned down. The woman he married became an invalid. He became a fisherman, but his nets never came back with a single fish. Before he died, he told his son that he believed all his misfortunes were divine punishment for his cowardice….but after his passing, the bad luck went to my grandfather, then to my father after him… My father is still alive, so in some ways I have been spared of the curse—but he is very ill, and soon the curse will fall on me.” Savelle shrugged. “I live a humble life. All I have is the companionship of my horse, and my health. I’d rather not lose either of those, but that is all I have to lose.”

Link had buckled his Sword to his hip upon dismounting, and now he touched its hilt and asked it a question.

 _The Goddess has the power to break curses,_ Fi replied _. I do not know if she is capable of it at the moment, however._

Savelle’s eyes watched the silent exchange keenly. “So the legend is true,” he murmured. “It speaks?”

“She,” Link corrected. “She is very old and very wise. I don’t think I can break your curse, and I don’t know if your actions alone will be enough to spare you from it. But the Goddess can.”

“The Goddess?” Savelle frowned. “She has never answered our prayers.”

“She was a little busy for the last century,” Link said dryly. “Holding the Calamity back for me.”

“But…” The man in front of him was still quite confused, and Link supposed that even Zelda had at one point not been aware that she and the Goddess were one and the same—not just related. At the same time, however, Link felt uncomfortable telling a stranger this detail. Perhaps it wasn’t a secret and had, at one point, been central to Hyrule’s religion. Zelda and Dorephan were resolved to being truthful about Zelda’s identity as princess and her plans for Hyrule, but Link did not feel like it was his place to speak for her or to reveal the deeper truth of her identity beyond her royal inheritance.

“Do you believe I’m who you were searching for, Savelle?” he asked around a mouth full of food.

His lunch companion was silent for a moment; he stared at his bowl of rice and meat with utmost concern for a moment. Then, he raised his eyes to Link’s and nodded. “Yes,” he said.

Link continued to chew for a few moments longer. “My quest isn’t finished, Savelle. I can’t rest until Hyrule is restored…and I need all the help I can get. You call yourself a Knight of Hyrule…let me be the judge.”


	37. Patience and Anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, everyone! Please continue to leave feedback. I read each and every thing you send. :)

Link and Savelle stood in the dusty clearing behind the stable and watched each other. Link had not yet drawn his Sword, but he had equipped his Hylian shield; it was obvious that Savelle was in awe of such a legendary artifact.

“I’m ready, don’t worry,” Link assured him. “Go ahead.”

Link appraised Savelle’s sword the moment the first inch of steel came into view. He could tell immediately that it was an old sword, likely inherited. It was not a knight’s sword but a soldier’s. But despite how it had been forged, it had been well cared for over the past century. Link wondered if its preservation was because it hadn’t been used, or because its owner was well-versed in its care.

Link dedicated only half a mind to side-stepping Savelle’s first swing; then, Savelle forced him to pay slightly more attention. Following his initial downward chop, he used his momentum to pivot and bring his sword swinging horizontally toward Link’s back. Link jumped forward and pivoted on one foot to avoid bisection, then jumped back another yard to maintain a good distance. For being such a tall, muscular man, Savelle was quite agile. Link watched his opponent’s footwork intently and decided that Savelle had to have been taught by a Gerudo. He continued to dodge and weave between Savelle’s attacks in a simultaneous attempt to build a complete picture of Savelle’s training, style, and flaws—and to test the man’s patience. But it seemed Savelle would not break. The only sign of his frustration, if it were indeed frustration, was a tightening of his jaw.

Finally, when both men were drenched in sweat and puffing for breath, Link drew the Master Sword.

Savelle froze at the sight. Link could see a light grow in his face, though Fi did not shine with her holy light. He wondered what Savelle saw, but he did not let himself dwell on it; he knew that Savelle had wanted a fight with the Hero. It was time to deliver.

Link squared off with a two-handed grip on his Sword. He had not done his hair up, and sweat plastered his fringe to his face; there was hair in his mouth and dust on his tongue. But he was filled with a vigor that he hadn’t felt in a long time… It was good to be admired.

Savelle was only just fast enough to block Link’s first blow, but the Master Sword glanced off the steel and darted forward once more. Savelle dropped his elbow and hit the flat of the Sword with enough strength to redirect both his own and Link’s momentum. The soldier’s sword whistled through the air past Link’s nose as he stepped out of time and out of the way, and in the moment he had, Link unwound his muscles and spun—ready to pull his weight in time to avoid slicing Savelle’s spine in two.

He indeed stopped just in time, and the two men stood still, breaths coming in gasps.

Link was not prepared for the charge.

The would-be knight rounded on him with a sudden ferocity and pushed him back with a rapid succession of mighty blows. Savelle was no longer sparring, ready to lighten his swings to a polite _tap_. This was an assault, and it was relentless. Link could hardly raise the Master Sword against one strike before the next fell; sparks flew from the clash of the blades, and Link could feel the spray of them on his face along with the drops of sweat that were flung about from their hair.

Savelle had forced him back to the pasture fence and had him on the ropes—that was certain. Link could feel the presence of the wood a few feet from his back, and a tree stump made the terrain to his left treacherous. To his right were several bales of hay. Sidesteps were impossible, then, and a backflip was risky.

 _Focus_ , he told himself.

Link closed his eyes.

The soldier’s sword cut the air where the Hero had stood. One moment, the short young man had stood flat-footed, awaiting Savelle’s blow; the next, it seemed the soldier was alone in the pasture.

He whirled around and found the Master Sword pointing at his throat.

The Hero’s cheeks were flushed with life, and beads of sweat glistened off his cheekbones; his eyes were gold with magic. He wielded the Blade of Evil’s Bane in his left hand, close enough that if he extended his arm Savelle would lose his head. The legendary sword glowed white like a star, and plasma seemed to radiate from it like a rippling aura that tasted like lightning.

Savelle blinked once, and when he looked at Link again he found that the young man’s eyes were blue once more, and the Sword seemed naught but a sword. His throat bobbed with his ragged breaths, and the tip of the Sword scratched at his beard.

Savelle dropped his sword and held up his hands.

Link sheathed the Master Sword in one fluid movement, then held out the same hand to shake Savelle’s. Then he bent to retrieve the man’s sword.

His heart immediately shriveled at the sight. The soldier’s sword was as battered and ruined as Fi had been at the end of their battle on Blatchery Plain one hundred years ago. But there could be no smithy, no divine power, that could save this blade.

Link had no idea if the sword was Savelle’s great-grandfather’s or had been similarly inherited—or if it had simply been made, or found. He hoped it did not have too much sentiment, but he felt terrible nonetheless.

Savelle was still speechless when Link handed him the ruined sword, and he continued to be silent as Link returned to his bag and reached in up to his shoulder. When he returned, it was with a sword that nearly mirrored his own. The wings of the cross-guard faced the opposite direction, and the hilt was wrapped in fine purple; along the length of the blade were gold inlays.

“The Hyrulean royal family would award this sword to knights who achieved remarkable feats,” Link said, only a little breathless. “You deserve it. That was a wonderful fight.”

Savelle’s eyes were wide in boyish awe as he looked from Link to the sword he offered and back. He accepted the blade reverently in both hands.

“Savelle,” Link said, “I would be honored if you’d help me rebuild the Royal Guard.”

  
“Purah, if you want to see my full wardrobe, you’re going to need to come down the hill yourself.” Zelda crossed her arms. “You’re going to need to commission more traveling clothes from the tailor for Ciera anyway—oh hush, we will front the cost! I did not banish an ancient Goddesses-damned eternal evil just to run errands for you!”

“Well, Link _did!”_

Purah stamped her foot grumpily, but neither girl could stay serious for very long. Ciera was snickering quietly across the table.

Zelda and Purah had spent the better part of the day making her laugh, and while Zelda hoped that the silliness didn’t harm her standing in the woman’s eyes, she had to admit she enjoyed bickering with Purah over such silly things.

When Ciera had first come down in the morning, dressed in the same clothes from the previous night—just rumpled and slept-in—Zelda had brought up the idea of getting her her own tailored garments. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss it much before Purah pitched the expedition, and the conversation had gone from there. There was so _many_ of the legends that Ciera had not known growing up, and Purah and Zelda filled her in. Now that Zelda had remembered a little of her past, she was able to get more of a sense of the common thread through every tale: the Goddess and the Hero, not merely an occasional Goddess-Blood Princess and her Chosen Knight, had defended Hyrule since its creation.

Ciera did not speak much, but the more she was spoken to, the more animated her features became. It was true that one of her eyes had not recovered from her abuse; Purah had given her a thorough, if cautious, physical the previous night and found that the ex-Yiga had been nearly blinded. Nevertheless, her face remained capable of expressing a small amount of joy, and Zelda was certain that one day she would remember how to smile.

They had returned to the topic of clothing rather late in the day. Purah’s windows were few and far between, and they were covered with charts and papers and canvas, so it was impossible to tell _how_ long they had gone on about religion and mythology and Zelda’s family history.

“If you go into town after dark, I know for a fact that the tailor is up—and the children are not,” Zelda told Purah. “You’ll have to leave these four walls at _some_ point, Purah.”

Purah stuck out her tongue and busied herself with her gadgets, leaving Zelda to continue chatting with Ciera.

“Have you got any appetite?” she asked the refugee.

“A little.”

Ciera’s voice was still raw, but the steady flow of honey-tea they had forced down her throat had done its job; Zelda could now make out the girl’s natural tones. Ciera’s was soft-spoken and her voice was low and reedy.

“What kinds of things do you like? Maybe we could make something. I’m getting a little peckish myself. Purah, where is your larder?”

Purah directed them outside and to the back of the lab, where she had built a cool dark room to keep food and other perishable items. Zelda led the way out the door and found that evening was drawing near. She was a little disappointed that Link had taken so long, but she supposed he must think it important that she get to know Ciera a little better.

As she and Ciera rounded the corner of the lab, she noticed that the ex-Yiga kept her shoulders hunched and hands clasped in front of her as though out of piety; her eyes were on the ground.

“What a sunset!” Zelda said loudly, and she leaned against the door to Purah’s pantry to signal that they were not yet going inside. “And what a wonderful breeze.”

Ciera glanced up at the coastline and squinted into the wind. Zelda was immediately warmed to see the girl’s tightly-clasped hands relax a little, and a very, _very_ small smile flitted across her chapped lips. She let the warmth wash over her, let the ocean breeze toss her white hair about like a banner.

Zelda slipped inside the larder, and Ciera followed.

It seemed that Symin had recently gone down the hill on the northern side and collected fresh ingredients, for there were nicely prepared steaks of carp and bass, several jars of honey with the comb, and plenty of vegetables. Ciera’s shoulders twitched as though she were about to reach for something, but she refrained.

“Do you know a recipe?” Zelda asked. “Let’s make it!”

Soon, the young women were seated cross-legged by Purah’s cooking pot, with fish, salt, ginger, honey, and butter laid out around them. Ciera did not speak much except to say, “Please pass…” while pointing at various items, and though Zelda would have been happy to assist in a greater capacity, she understood that this was something Ciera wanted to do herself.

“Butter makes the sauce…saucy,” Ciera said at last.

“It really smells wonderful. The herbs you added are so fragrant.” Zelda inhaled deeply and sighed on the exhale, quite pleased with how the day had turned out. “You might give Link a run for his money.”

Ciera was quiet as she scooped a steak out of the bottom of the pot and onto a plate with a generous drizzle of sauce. She handed it to Zelda and then began fixing her own serving. “Demise _hates_ Link,” she said, her eyes on her food. “More than you.”

Zelda nearly spat out the bite of delicious bass she had just taken. Ciera continued to stare at her food in silence.

“So it’s true, he has spoken to the Yiga?”

Ciera squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded once.

“You… I suppose you don’t have to answer this. But what does he want to do to us? Do you know where the Forgotten Temple is?”

The woman across from her chewed her lip anxiously instead of answering, and Zelda was forced to swallow her frustration and take another bite of fish. The truth would come out sometime or another, and she and Link would be ready. She believed it deeply. For now, she simply wanted Ciera to stop cowering in front of her.

 

The Slate pieced Link together out of the aura and placed him on the Travel Gate of the Tech Lab. A moment later, Zelda opened the door.

“It makes a strange sound,” she said. “Like a wind, or a sigh.”

She closed the door behind her and approached him, then wrinkled her nose. “Did you build another village from scratch? Work in the Tanagar mines?”

His face was blank, if a little bemused. “I may have knighted someone.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how your conversation with Mipha went.” He took her hand and set off down the road to town. “I think that’s a fair trade.”

Zelda followed slowly. Her conversation with Mipha had occurred _just the previous day,_ but it felt like a thousand years ago—another life. Remembering it renewed the pain, but it was already dulled by the passage of time.

“You must not remember,” she began with a sigh, “but Mipha and I were very well-acquainted growing up. I was always very aware of how different our upbringings were. She was never tailed by knights and guards when she ventured out of her home. She would often regale me with stories of her interactions with her citizens, out and about… So when she saw me yesterday, saw the sunburn and the clothes…”

Her eyes had already begun to sting.

“She talked about seeing you on Ruta and hoping that you would never remember your despair. She told me about your conversation with her on Ruta. And—”

Zelda stopped abruptly and turned Link’s palm up to her face. She did not remove his glove or push up his sleeve—too afraid of what she might have overlooked previously.

His fingers curled around hers. “They’re gone,” he said, almost imperceptibly.

“I had _no_ idea, Link.” She bowed her head over their joined hands and squeezed her eyes tight. “I had no idea, and I bullied you so relentlessly, and I just… I just had no idea of the pain you were in.”

Link was silent. They had had this conversation so many times before, and though she was rehashing it again, she could now reach the same conclusions on her own. Still, she needed to voice the sentiment.

After a long silence, they began walking again, and Zelda found her voice to continue.

“You had told her that you remembered our lives, and she said that she understood the implications for our relationship…that my love for you would be the key to my power. But all these years, she’s felt guilty for not telling me that sooner.” Zelda glanced up at Link found his face carefully composed—but fragile nonetheless. “I told her that was silly. I could never have allowed myself to entertain such a thought. I told her that even if I had had my own sword, I would never have been free like her. I don’t blame her in the slightest. She was my only friend, for my whole life, Link. And now she’s gone.”

Tears streaked down her face, but she did not feel them. Her brain was too concerned with the pain of her broken heart to process any other sensory inputs.

Link’s grip on her hand was tight as he led her across the bridge to their home. Bolson and his crew were nowhere to be found, and they were blessedly alone in the yard; for some reason, they were both reluctant to enter the house with the story unfinished.

“She said one thing that I cannot reconcile,” Zelda said at last. “Mipha seemed to imply that I was the one who healed you of your despair, while I was battling the Calamity… Of course, I hardly remember that time at all, but from what I do remember, it was all you. That was your great journey. I _watched_ you cast it out from your soul, and I was proud, but I wasn’t the one responsible.”

Link looked up at the darkening sky, where the first stars of the night burned even as the last light of day died.

“Mipha asked me: if duty had not bound me, would I have walked the same path that I had? And it reminded me of a memory you left me east of the Bridge of Hylia, in a storm. You had asked me if I would have had the courage to defy my parents, had I not wanted to be a Royal Guard like they were. Did I answer you then?”

Zelda shook her head slowly. “We weren’t yet on speaking terms.”

“That’s not why,” he said. “What I couldn’t tell you then was that the Hero has turned his back on duty before…but I have never turned my back on you, Zelda, and I never will. There was no way to tell you that without telling you that I loved you.”

Her knight turned his piercing gaze back to her now. Without releasing her hand, Link lowered himself to one knee, and he rested his left hand over his heart. The heartbreaking truth in his words, the knowledge of the extent of his despair in this life and the grim lengths it had taken him to in previous lives, hung heavily between them. But stars shone in his blue eyes as he looked up at her.

“My Goddess or my princess or my queen, you are the reason I live.” His throat bobbed with the effort it took to find his voice to continue, but he forced the words out, heady as they were with emotion. “In those dark months, when I doubted myself, when I remembered all the reasons why these lives of ours are utterly futile, when I felt powerless against destiny and darkness, when I felt alone…you were there. You named me, and you were why I had the strength to see another day.”

His voice broke, and there was so much more that he wanted to say. He wanted to say that it was the name she called him— _Dear One_ —that had reminded him someone in this vast empty world might love him, might be happy to see him—not a him that was remembered and no longer existed, but a him that was now, a him that was scared, a him that needed strength for the journey.

But Farore had assured him: _she will call you ‘Dear One’ once again._

For now, curtained by her long hair and shrouded in her warmth, the kiss she placed on his forehead was enough.


	38. Hiatus Note

**Hello everyone!**

 

**Thank you for your patience these past few months. Life has gotten away from me, and my creativity has been channeled into other things (like science!). I'm currently putting the finishing touches on my first novel, and I promised myself that I'd focus on that book until I've finally sent it in to agent. Wish me luck! There's not a day that goes by where I don't have a thought about _Hero of the Wild,_ and I have all those thoughts written down for when I'm ready to focus on it again. Hopefully, that'll be sooner than later.**

 

**Thanks again for all the kudos and comments,**

**ywb**


	39. Half Measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaack! A little rusty, but I'm steering this ship with a steady hand, don't you fear. ;) Thanks for all of your wonderful comments over the break. They always inspire me to continue on.
> 
> We've officially entered Part Four of Hero of the Wild... Who's ready for some HEAVY LORE ACTION?

Zelda ducked away when Link tried to put his arm around her, and she nimbly maneuvered behind him to give him a shove toward the house. “Please,” she said, “you _must_ bathe.”

He stared at her, impressed at the note of royal scorn she managed to inject into her voice and the crinkle of her nose. She gave him a nervous smile to gauge whether she had successfully lightened the mood, and he immediately slung his arm around her and used his Goddess-given strength to prevent her from slipping away. They lurched from side to side as she wriggled and laughed.

“I need to tell you about my day,” he said petulantly as they stumbled toward the house. “I knighted someone!”

“I’ll sit in front of the bath and listen if you please—”

Before she could finish speaking, Link had yanked his filthy tunic over his head, kicked off his boots, and ran inside. Zelda followed and entered just in time to see Link’s naked backside disappear into the washroom.

She nearly raised her hands to cover her eyes before realizing just how silly that would be. But she couldn’t get the sight of her knight’s butt out of her visual memory. With her face burning with embarrassment, she kicked off her shoes beside his pile of clothes and sank down against the wall adjacent to the bath. “Alright, Hero. Tell me.”

Water poured into the tub, and the sloshing that followed told Zelda that he had climbed in.

“So,” said Link, sloshing a bit more as he settled in or started scrubbing or something similar, “ages ago, a kid at a stable in Tabantha told me about a man who claimed to be a knight but was probably a thief. That’s the first thing I thought of when this armored guy comes up on a horse following Lanayru. He was looking for me specifically so he could join me in a life of honorable service…but honestly, it seems like there are no trained Hylian warriors left. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve seen fighting off bokos who’re just flailing around with a sword…”

“That’s quite surprising. I’m sure I’ve seen every traveler with a sword and shield on their saddle or their pack.”

“Right?” Link said. “But this guy is different. He’s really, really good. Like, Gerudo good. I sparred with him until his sword broke—he managed to keep me on my toes for a bit. But I felt so badly for destroying his sword that I gave him one of the Royal Broadswords I found in the castle. And I figured, if he deserved such a thing—which he certainly does, by skill alone—then I might as well recruit him. I figure there are going to be a lot of tasks you need me to carry out beyond reestablishing the knighthood and the Royal Guard, so the sooner I have someone I trust and can depend on to help me out, the better.”

Link’s voice was muffled behind the door to the bath, and Zelda found herself smiling at the thick wood though she knew he couldn’t see. It was just like Link to trust someone so easily, while it was entirely against her nature to be so free of doubt. “You said he fights like a Gerudo? Is this the legendary case of the male Gerudo?”

“No, he’s definitely Hylian. It’s not really how he fights. It’s just how he moves, like he’s been trained by dancers.” There was a muffled splash. “There’s something else, Zelda. He said that one of his ancestors was stationed at the Trading Post, saw the Guardians coming, and deserted without telling anyone of the danger. Since then, his family has been cursed with tragedy and bad luck.”

“Does he think that Hylia has cursed him?” Zelda’s brows knit together in worry, and she fixed the door with a concerned stare.

“I don’t think so,” Link said quickly. “Fi says that sacred vows like the ones knights make are a kind of magic of their own, so it’s probably that. But she also thinks that maybe you could break his curse.”

“Goddesses, does she know how? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Link was silent.

Zelda sighed. “Well, if you trust him, then I would very much like to break his curse. But I can’t think of how, except to pray over him…to myself.”

Link chuckled mirthlessly behind the door.

“Speaking of which, I told my own story to the village children today,” Zelda said. “Have you met Reede?”

"No, is he one of the kids?”

“No, he’s the mayor. Well, he knows you. And now he knows me. He told me all about the rumors going through the town—people are so nosy, Link! Someone said that I’m some backwoods girl you impregnated and stole away to the farthest corner of Hyrule you could find. And someone else is saying that we’re _siblings!”_

There was a loud splash, as though Link had dropped the bar of soap into the basin. “Can we put a moratorium on words like ‘impregnate’? A moratorium, but forever.”

“That’s exactly what I told Reede. I squashed several rumors like that, but I did feed the real one—and by real, I mean that I am indeed the princess of legend and you are my fallen-but-restored knight, and all that.”

There was a long, drawn-out pause, and Zelda felt that somehow she had said something wrong. _Again_. She simply had no idea what. She supposed that maybe neither of them had really shaken their somber moods, and what little wind that had filled their sails had flagged at last.

She tried to keep her heart from sinking, and she crossed her hands forcefully in her lap. “You know, Link, I _am_ very pleased that you’ve found an honorable recruit. It will go a great ways toward rebuilding our forces.”

Her words were met with continued silence. She supposed that Link’s silence had not always been such a terrible thing, but just a little earlier he had been so animated and happy to tell her of his day. Now, silence seemed like a slight.

“Will the honorable Savelle be joining us?”

Link at last made a sound that Zelda understood to be ‘no.’ “I sent him to find his swordmaster and bring them to the castle,” he said. “They’ll bring the able-bodied and the pure-of-heart with them, to restart the Royal Guard. They’ll work with the Sheikah, so they don’t need me there.”

“You always know what to do,” she said. “That was very wise.”

“I just…needed to buy myself time.”

His words caught Zelda completely by surprise, and she looked over at the door of the bath as though it would give her an explanation. Instead, for a long moment, no sounds passed between them except the steady sound of their breathing. When Link spoke again, it was in a low, halting voice; he chose each word with care and paused frequently.

“When I think of Hateno… I’m happy to be just their hero. Not the Hero, just someone who had helped the people here. It just doesn’t feel like this is a place where kingdom-building, world-changing work is done, and I… I didn’t want to Savelle to come here and change that for me.”

Zelda’s ears drooped, and a heavy weight dropped into her stomach. _And then I went and changed that for him,_ she thought ruefully. _Forever deciding his destiny for him. Forever robbing him of a life of anonymity and peace._

Her fingernails dug into her palms hard enough to leave angry crescents in her skin; she took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry,” Zelda said. “This is all coming so fast, maybe I should try to slow it down. Hateno doesn’t need a queen. Not now.”

“Zelda— _no_. No. I want you to be you. To be _Queen_. To restore Hyrule. I just…” Water spilled over the edge of the basin, and Zelda imagined he had sank deeper into its depths. His voice was suddenly very small, and she had to strain to hear it through the thick wood of the door. “I want people to see us as we truly are, not as legends.”

Zelda gave in to her restlessness and stood to pace as she processed his words. She paced a quick circuit around the little room before returning to the door to the bath. She placed a hand on it, as though to will it open, but she did not.

 _“I_ see you, as you are,” she told the door in a firm voice, “and I cannot fathom that the people you’ve helped don’t see what I see. You are _their_ hero, because of the compassion and strength and humility you’ve shown them. That is not easily obscured and forgotten.”

He blew bubbles doubtfully.

“One hundred years ago, you and I were placed on pedestals and hidden behind walls and titles before we ever became conscious _people,_ ” she continued. “This time is different. The respect Hateno shows you isn’t the kind of respect that’s bought by kings and priestesses, born from legends and rumors and decrees and honors. You have already shown what seems like the entire kingdom, to the very last individual, what kind of person you are—and they respect _him_. The man that they know.”

Zelda heard Link blow doubtful bubbles in his bathwater, and she released an imperceptible sigh. “I know that it’s hard to shake right now. But I do see you, Link.”

“I know,” he said, so softly that she almost did not hear it as she climbed the stairs and went to ready herself for bed.

It had been windy at sunset, but now the night was still and oppressive. She opened the window by Link’s bed and found no reprieve from the stale air in the house; coupled with the humidity from Link’s bath, the thought of wearing clothes was unbearable. She was quick to shed her many layers and shawl and left them in a pile with her boots in the corner. She was much slower to pick out her night clothes, and she paused halfway through to lay atop the covers in only her undergarments.

Her lack of sleep from the previous night had caught up to her with a vengeance, and the thick heat in the house only deepened her exhaustion. She found herself slipping out of her body and into a dim, dreamy awareness.

Water sloshed loudly in the silence, then became a series of pitter-pattering drips as though Link had stood up from the bath. But to Zelda’s ears it also sounded like water, in a distant cave, disturbed after many years of isolation.

_No breeze passed through this cavern, and the air was as stale and still as that which Zelda breathed now. The air did not move, but she did, drawn deeper into the cool darkness._

_The weight of the earth above her head—earth or air?—increased, and the ground beneath her sloped steeply downward. From the depths below, through the still and unmoving air, a strange magic called to the deepest parts of her. It was a plaintive, weak resonance, but it knew her, and it needed her._

_As she flowed with the tilt of the earth, she drifted further from herself, in search of the source of the plea…until with a sudden jolt, she was falling—_

Link’s arms tightened around her; he had just climbed into bed, and that had been enough to wake her from her strange dream. He chuckled apologetically at her startled jump, and his breath was hot against the clammy skin of the back of her neck.

The smell of lemon and herbs filled the space around their bed. This was the most their skin had ever touched; the sheer surface area of their exposed skin should have been overwhelming, but the feeling was only comforting. He reached around her and wrapped her against his chest tightly, and she could feel the ridges of some of his worst scars against the skin of her back. His calloused hand splayed across her stomach, pulled her ever so slightly closer to him.

Zelda roused herself enough to move her hand to entwine with his.

“It’s been a long few days,” she murmured.

She felt a low rumble of agreement deep in his chest, and she thought, sleepily, that it sounded rather like Naydra off in the distance. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, and they both fell asleep.

 

Perhaps it had been Nayru’s guardian that she had heard: her sleep was blessedly free of nightmares and nightmarish memories, and when she woke at last, she found that the summer heat had broken. The morning air that washed through Link’s open window was cool and sweet and crisp and reminded her of that moment atop Mount Lanayru when she had looked into Link’s eyes and realized, truly, how much he believed in her.

It was still early in the morning; the sliver of sky that Zelda could see through the window was still dark and sprinkled inconsistently with stars. Despite the hour, Link woke with her, but they lay entwined in silence. Neither moved except to occasionally yawn or sigh or give the other a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“How was your visit with Purah yesterday?” Link asked when the first rays of bright sunlight finally trespassed across their bed.

Zelda immediately sat up, eyes glistening with excitement. Link did his utmost to keep his eyes firmly on her face and not on the exposed curves of her body, but he could not help cataloging the way her back curved, and the crease at the juncture of her hip and ribs that would perfectly fit his hand, or the sharp slope of her collarbone and the flat planes of her chest—

“Very productive! After she stopped pestering me for lewd details about our relationship, she showed me something Grante had found in the royal archives.” Her smile broke wide across her face. “Link, if I read this scroll correctly, I have some idea of what is required of me in the trials of Rudania and Medoh. For once, we will be prepared!”

“That’s great,” he said, earnestly. “We’ll need to prepare some fireproof elixirs for you.”

“As much as I enjoy the idea of massaging oil into each other’s skin, there should be a much more practical solution hidden in the castle,” Zelda replied. The facetious note in her voice didn’t fool him.

Link carefully sat up and wrapped his arms around her, never looking away from her eyes. Their next stop would have to be the castle, for better or for worse—and he wasn’t the only one who’d prefer to run from such responsibility. Their foreheads came together from some gravity that would never allow them to part for long. Zelda closed her eyes, and at last a shadow of doubt clouded her expression.

“I see you,” she reminded him wearily.

“We were made for each other,” he agreed, and he nuzzled closer to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Are there other scrolls like this? Anything on the Forgotten Temple?”

Her ears perked up. “Yes, in fact. Purah and Ciera will be venturing to the Temple of Time to search for a sacred archive hidden beneath it.” Her eyes sparkled with renewed excitement. “I don’t know what it might hold. Perhaps relics of our past lives,like the ocarina or the legendary hookshot, or the lost harp of the Goddess. At the very least, I hope they will find some clue as to what lies in the Forgotten Temple that would interest Demise and the Yiga.”

He certainly agreed. “In the meantime—what would you have us do first?”

“Before we can make further progress on the Goddesses’ quest, we must go to the castle.” Zelda sighed a little. “I must fetch my flamebreaker cloak and, I suppose, my snowquill, if we’ll be headed to Medoh. I’m sure that the Sheikah will require some of my attention and direction, and perhaps Bolson will have begun work on the Castle Town already…” She pulled back from Link briefly as her gaze wandered off in thought. At last, she nodded to herself. “And I do have some things I would like to set in motion. We should set off today.”

“The horses won’t be here until the end of the week,” he said apologetically.

Zelda only smiled at the news. “Good,” she said. “We’ll impose a strict limit on the duration of our stay, then. One week to be Queen, then, oh, sorry, we must return to our adventure.” She took a deep breath to puff herself up, and when she released it, Link saw a new kind of determination in her eyes. “We’ll leave after breakfast.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

She wrinkled her nose and extricated herself from his grasp. “I will try my hand at breakfast, but perhaps you should get started on your laundry. The future King of Hyrule can’t walk into his castle smelling like a hinox, can he?”

Zelda laughed at the look of terror on Link’s face as the weight of his potential title sank in, and she continued to snicker as she went downstairs to restart the fire.

They ate breakfast in the same state of undress, for the fire had turned their cozy house into a bit of a sauna, even in the early morning. Link hung his washed tunic and trousers on the line outside, and they seemed to dry even before he turned his back on them. It was going to be a scorching day, and Link was actually a little grateful that they were without the horses. It would have been a brutal and slow journey from Hateno to the castle in this weather.

By the time they had finished their household chores, the town was alive with chatter.It seemed that the village children had decided to play closer to Link’s house than usual; more of them held sticks and pot lids than usual, and whenever Link or Zelda passed their open door, they noticed that the children would stop whatever they were doing to stare.

Zelda felt terrible when she first noticed, but Link’s face betrayed no sign of whether this new phenomenon bothered him any more than the usual adoration he received from wide-eyed children.

“Do you need to go into town for anything?” Link asked after she came down the stairs, fully dressed, hair braided, and sword clipped to her waist. It was clear from his tone that he hoped the answer was ‘no.’

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied. “I promised Purah that I would accompany her into town to meet with a woman named Uma, then with Reede. I did get the sense that Reede wasn’t completely convinced by my story, but Purah knew him as a boy—and Uma knew Purah very well. So…you see?”

Link nodded.

Zelda stood at the door and turned to cast her gaze around at their home: Mipha’s trident still on the wall, Revali’s bow hung carefully in its splendor and Daruk’s mighty sword in the corner—and her beloved knight, seated at the table. The morning light beamed in through the open door and cast his hair in gold; he had not yet tied it back, and it cascaded down his shoulders and across his forehead like a mane. His blue eyes drank her in just as keenly, and as she met his gaze, she was struck off-balance by the force of the memory.

_The Fields burned. The sky was so filled with smoke that it obscured the sun and cast the battlefield in a terrible, red-tinged twilight. The scent of death was oppressive and inescapable, choking her and her forces even as they themselves burned._

_The Divine Beasts had unleashed their holy wrath upon the Demon. It had fallen for but a moment—even before her eyes, in the smoldering crater left by the blow, it writhed with a fury that was all too alive for her liking._

_With her heart in her throat, she watched as its form coalesced into a hard, pulsating darkness of evil-made-flesh. It inhaled a mighty breath, and it seemed to suck all of the available air from the world. Then, it screamed with such fury the likes of which she had never felt. It threatened to consume her._

_Where was her knight?!_

_Out of the haze of hatred and Malice and white-hot fire, she saw a banner of molten gold. He had removed his helm, and now his fierce visage was clear for all to see. He was charging toward her around the side of the crater, with his mighty sword pulsing with Divine light, and the threads of his armor glowing with the aura of the Goddess, and his arm extended—_

Link was at her side in an instant, grip tight on her elbows to keep her upright. “You—I—” Zelda spluttered, her throat dry and mouth tasting of char. “Link, can you—this is such a strange request. Can you put on your ancient armor?” She stared up at him with wide eyes. “I think I’m remembering something important.”

She must remember him: his face, his eyes, his _voice_ , this ancient Hero. Even now, the memory of him barreling toward her through the inferno melted away like a mirage in the desert. Unlike any other dream or vision or memory of her past, this filled her with a sense of urgency. The secrets they sought in this life had their answers _then_ , ten-thousand years ago.

Link did not hide his utter confusion, but he did not question her outright as he began to strip off his tunic and trousers and slide into the skin-tight body suit that went beneath the armor. The stonework plates lay scattered across the table, but he donned them too slowly; her heart had not calmed at all since the memory had released her, and the leftover anxiety that coursed through her made her hurry over to help him with the ties and buckles of his breastplate and spauldrons.

As her fingers glided over the material of the under suit and traced the edges of the amber inlays, she tried to tie the material under her fingers to any sensation that might have ancient origins.

Through the fog of time, just out of her grasp, memories of a life flickered, but they remained out of her grasp.

Zelda stood behind Link, her fingers hooked in the red straps that held his breastplate on, and released a frustrated groan. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and she grumbled again when he leaned his cheek on her head consolingly. “I very nearly remembered our first battle with the Calamity,” she murmured into his collarbone. “You had such long hair, then.”

He reached up to finger a lock of hair and chuckled. “I was just thinking last night that maybe it’s time for a cut.”

“Long hair is such a hassle,” she mumbled. “You wore armor similar to this. But…the aura wasn’t amber, it was blue…and…there was something else. Something important. But I can’t _remember!”_

Link leaned back and wrapped his arms around her wast, hands splayed on her hips. _“I_ don’t even remember that life,” he said. “It’s completely beyond my reach.”

“Sorry for making you change,” she said. “I thought it would help.”

“You can dress me up however you like, princess.” She couldn’t help the blush that blazed up her neck and across her cheeks at the flirtatious note in his voice, and she pinched him out of spite. She was not prepared for him to pinch her in retaliation, and she released the most embarrassing squeak she had ever heard from a living creature.

Link doubled over with laughter, and it was a full five minutes before either of them had enough wits about them to remove the ancient armor, redress in traveling clothes, and head out in search of Purah, Uma, and Reede.


	40. Confrontation in the Big House.

The children were wide-eyed as the princess and her knight stepped out of Link’s house dressed like any other Hylians they had seen. The Hero did not wear a padded gambeson under his red tunic, and he wore no armor that the children could see; what they could see of his forearms and around the collar of his shirt was covered in healed scars that they _knew_ had to be won in battle. He carried no shield or bow, and indeed was only armed with the Sword of Evil’s Bane.

The young woman that most of the children had accepted was a princess was dressed in a white summer dress with loose sleeves, and the hem of her skirt and the cuffs of her sleeves were dip-dyed sky blue. Atop the dress she wore a pink apron, belted at the waist with a deep red wrap and, atop it, her sword belt. Her hair had been braided loosely down her back, and the red slash of fabric she had used to tie off the end whipped in the breeze that washed through Hateno from the sea. She smiled as she approached the children, and they scattered, screaming.

Link snorted and reached for Zelda’s hand as they headed across the bridge and down the hill into town.

It was painfully obvious that word had already begun to spread. The store attendants, sweeping on the stoops, did not call out to Link and his partner as they often did; the women at the laundry gawked openly, and even the men in the fields stopped their hoeing to stare. With every step they took through Hateno, Link and Zelda’s backs straightened, their shoulders squared, and their strides lengthened. Together, the Hero and the Princess marched through town and left awe in their wake.

They climbed the winding path to Purah’s lab and found Ciera seated just outside the front door.

“Purah told me she would meet me outside to go into town,” she said in her quiet voice. “That was hours ago.”

“Well, that’s not nice of her to keep you waiting.” Zelda pushed open the door. “Purah, your royal escort has arrived, and she commands you to come down into town right now!”

Purah was clearly hiding behind a stack of notes and books—her big bow betrayed her presence. Zelda did not release Link’s hand as she crossed the room to stare Purah down. As soon as she came into view, Purah’s eyes went wide behind her glasses. “Your _dress!_ Where did you get _that!”_

“The tailor in town,” Zelda replied. “Where else?”

“Wow, she really has mastered some historical designs!” Purah clambered over her desk to reach for the pink apron. “Ellia had an encyclopedic knowledge of Hylian fashion, given her knack for disguise, but I’ve seen her notes, and these kinds of layered dresses and patterns have been traced back to the age of the Imprisoning Wars.”

“Who’s Ellia?”

All the color drained from Purah’s face, and she stared at Link with wide eyes that were just as pained and disbelieving as when Zelda had appeared on her doorstep after a century of imprisonment. Link looked to Zelda, and she looked up at him with an expression that exuded compassion. She turned to face him fully and now took his other hand in her own.

“She was the Hand of the Queen, and the Royal Spymaster before Impa took on that role,” Zelda said quietly. “Lady Ellia and her husband, Grand Marshall Thom of the Royal Guard, were your parents.”

Link’s grip on her hand loosened momentarily, as though he were to pull away. Then, he threaded his fingers through hers even more resolutely. “Thank you,” he said. “So you knew her then, too, Purah.”

Purah had the tip of her tongue pinned between her front teeth in a strange look of concentration. She eyed him suspiciously, as though certain he were about to break down and cry in front of her. Her fingers twitched in the direction of her observation log.

“So no luck on the memories then,” she said, but there was a slight tremble in her voice. Her eyes darted down to Link and Zelda’s joined hands, then back up to Link’s face. “You know, I could work on that. I think that’s important.”

“No, Purah.” Link shook his head. “Thwarting the Yiga is more important for now.”

“You can’t _mean_ that, Linky,” she whined. “She was your—”

“The memories won’t come if I’m dead all over again,” Link told her shortly.

“Speaking of which,” Zelda interjected in her most tactful voice, “we must get you a dress like this, and some traveling clothes, so you can set off and do what you do best: discover ancient lore and technology that will save our lives. _And_ , you need to speak with Uma and Reede.”

Purah snorted grossly and hopped off of her bench. “Fine! Anything for my princess! But I’m not happy about this! It’s been _two years_ since I went down to the village, and I was an old crone then! This isn’t gonna be easy!”

She skipped out the door and past Ciera, then off down the hill. Ciera followed obediently behind her, while Link and Zelda followed at a more relaxed pace. Zelda gave one of Link’s hands a squeeze, but his face betrayed no deeper sorrow than usual. She could guess that, maybe, neither of them wanted to plumb those depths again quite so soon.

Purah slowed down significantly when she neared the edge of town, and Ciera walked slowly at her side, for she certainly had no idea where to go. It was immediately clear that Zelda and Link would need to take the lead—which was unfortunate, because Zelda had no idea who Uma was. They paused but for a moment, then Zelda began to pull on Link’s hand to lead him to the front of the pack.

“Princess,” a wavering voice called. “Oh, princess!”

Every head turned down the road, and Zelda found an elderly man walking toward them from the heart of town. His eyes were shut from the force of his beaming smile, and his walk was slow and off-balance from age.

Zelda noticed a peculiar tingling on the edge of her senses, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw motion from where Ciera stood, but she kept her eyes on the old man. He moved so slowly, and he was still a fair ways away, so Zelda had to raise her voice to ensure that he heard her.

“Y-yes, hello,” Zelda said. “How do you do?”

“Well, keeping out of the sun, you know,” the old man said. “So it’s _true_ that the Sheikah still watch over us from way up there! Wouldn’t you know. _All_ the rumors are turning out to be true. Forgive me, I saw your hair like a banner in the wind as you came down the hill, and—well, the color just reminds me of the most perfectly ripe banana! It must be time for harvest!”

The hobbling figure unfurled itself in a puff of black and red smoke and paper hex charms, and the Yiga archer sprang into the air before Ciera’s throwing knives could even leave her hand. They thudded _loudly_ in the adobe stonework of a distant building, and Zelda could only imagine what damage they would have done if they’d found their mark.

But she was too busy staring down the tips of double-knocked arrows, pulled taught beside the spikes that covered the Yiga’s duplex bow. Her hand reached for her sword, but even she knew that she would never move fast enough.

Link leaped in front of her, shieldless, yet with his arm raised to shield her. Zelda screamed as the familiar, torturous sound of arrows hitting _flesh_ reached her ears, muffled by his body and lost in his own shout of pain and anger. Before the archer could even land again, before the archer could teleport or speak or _breathe_ , Link drew his sword arm back as though to throw the Master Sword, and a beam of white light slashed through the air where the assassin still hung.

The man’s torso and legs hit the ground with two separate, sickening thuds, and the beam of white light continued hurtling through the air until it hit the side of the mountain and exploded in blue sparks.

“Link!”

Zelda stepped around him swiftly to take in the damage. Links’ expression showed no pain, though the Yiga’s arrows had pierced clean through to the other side of his arm; his jaw was white from how tightly he grit his teeth, and his fingers twitched from doubtless nerve damage, but he only shied away from her touch—he did not wince nor did he cry out.

Zelda was nearly sickened at the sight, and Purah was shouting nonsense about finding the village healer, but Zelda ignored her. She reached for the small pouch on her belt and gave Ciera a sharp look. “Cut off the arrowheads and then pull them out, and I will staunch the bleeding,” she said.

Link dropped the Master Sword from his other hand and clamped it over his elbow so tightly that his knuckles went white. He lowered himself to his knees slowly, and Zelda realized, as she followed him down, that he was prepared to faint.

Ciera had pulled out another razor-sharp hand blade and with swift, careful hands, held the arrows as still as possible and sliced off the bloodied arrow heads. Zelda took the strip of cloth she had used to braid her hair and soaked it in the hearty elixir she kept in her pocket. She signaled Ciera with a nod.

The sound of the wood shafts sliding out of Link’s arm made Zelda gag, but she ground her teeth against the urge and began to wind the makeshift bandage tightly around the wounds. Link gasped briefly, and his head hit her shoulder as he curled in on himself against the pain.

Zelda tied off the bandage and braced him against her with one bloodied hand reaching behind him to tangle in his hair while the other gripped his unharmed arm tightly. Ciera immediately backed away and went to collect her knives.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she could not pick her words quickly enough. None of them seemed right, and she fell silent, for she knew nothing she could say would help. Even without seeing his face or hearing it from his lips, she knew that the Yiga’s appearance had wounded him deeper than the flesh. The Yiga had come to _Hateno_. _Hateno_ , a place so safe, neither of them had worn armor when they left their house. _Hateno_ , a place whose peaceful existence was only possible because of how hard he had fought on Blatchery Plain—a place that was _his_.

She bowed her head to look between them at his arm. It did not help that the hearty elixir was red like blood; she couldn’t see if his wounds were healing.

“Is it working?”

He nodded against her neck. With his good hand, he picked up his sword, and even as she helped him stand, his injured hand found hers and grabbed it in a vice grip. He looked over her shoulder in the direction of the bisected Yiga and the village, and he gave her hand another squeeze.

Zelda turned to find a handful of onlookers, standing on the bridge a few yards away. The crowd was composed of an elderly woman, two younger women laden with large packs—they looked as though they could be related—and two children, Aster and Nebb. The children’s eyes darted from Link, to Zelda, to the Sheikah woman and the Sheikah girl who accompanied them, but the adults only had eyes for Link.

“Well then,” the old woman said at last. “I suppose we should go to the big house.”

Link stepped ahead of Zelda and bent to rip the Yiga’s mask off of its head; the little crowd parted to allow him through, and he led the way to Reede’s house. Zelda followed close behind.

As they walked, all the villagers who had ogled them just half an hour prior, on their way up the hill, came running over, all sense of decorum and secrecy abandoned.

Link opened the door to the mayor’s house and entered ahead of Zelda, the Master Sword still drawn in his hand.

Reede was not there, but Link did not falter. He strode to the front of the room, turned to face the door, and took up a pose that was all too familiar to Zelda. His injured arm dripped blood and elixir to the floor, and he crossed his hands over the pommel of the Master Sword. The Yiga’s mask was fisted in one hand.

Zelda met his gaze briefly as she came to stand beside him. She took a deep breath, then turned to face their gathering audience as well.

The first to enter the room were Purah and Ciera, followed by the smaller group of women and children who had witnessed the Yiga’s attack. Purah came to stand in front of Link and Zelda and pointed a finger at the old woman as she hobbled inside.

“Uma, I was present at your birth and at the birth of all of your children, and your children’s children. I’m Purah, and I need you to tell me what it’ll take to convince you of that!”

The old woman lowered herself gingerly onto a stool. “Purah, Symin told me everything _two years ago,”_ she said in her scornful voice. “That boy has always been as much a gossip as the rest of this village.”

“WHAT?!”

“Don’t worry, I have kept your secret. I’m well aware of your vanity.” Uma shook her head, and she raised her eyes to Link and Zelda. Zelda felt embarrassed for her bloodstained dress, but there was a wistful look in her eyes as she took them in. “I didn’t come along until the Age of the Burning Fields, long enough after the Calamity that the grass had begun to grow on Blatchery Plain once more. My mother and grandmother raised me on stories of the Calamity, and how they believed that the Princess and her Hero would return.” She smiled a little, her wrinkled face creasing with the years. “And of course, in Hateno, where Purah was our midwife and our healer and our historian, each of us grew up hearing tales of the Princess. Perhaps we did not do our duty and pass those stories down, but we were self-sufficient here. It seemed that even if the Calamity held Castle Town in its iron grip, Hateno would always be free, and the legends would never touch us…”

As she spoke, the entire village—from the youngest to the oldest—filed in to the mayor’s house. The last one to enter, just as Uma began to trail off, was Reede himself.

He paused in the doorway and swept his gaze across Link and Zelda, as they stood with blood on their hands at the front of the room, then the Sheikah woman and the younger girl who stood in front of them, and then Uma and Leop, the village elders seated ahead of all the others.

“Granny, what is this all about?” he asked.

“I saw it with my own eyes, Reede,” Uma replied, “with Meghyn and Nat, and the children: an assassin attacked the lady as she came down the hill, and our Link—well, he did what he always does.”

One of the young women spoke up. “He protected her, like he’s protected us.”

“He used the Sword! A beam of light flew out and the _light_ cut the bad guy in half!” Nebb shouted. “It was amazing! Right, Granny?”

“What he says is true.” Uma inclined her head. “This account is not a child’s absentminded daydream. I saw the magic with my own eyes.”

A hushed murmur ran through the crowd of gathered villagers.

Zelda tried to gather any sign of Reede’s thoughts from his face. It seemed that he wasn’t sure of what was expected of him in this situation. “So the Sheikah have come down from their watch post,” he said at last. “And what do they make of your claim, Zelda?”

Zelda did not have time to speak before Purah had stormed up to Reede and stood, with her hands on her hips, looking up at him. “Uma knew exactly who I was before I said anything, Reede! I’m ashamed of you. I was there when you were born, and your children were born!”

Reede stared at the little girl, speechless. Zelda had to restrain herself from running over to Purah and bodily throwing her out of the room.

“My dear advisor, Purah, made a valiant effort to create a technology to combat the decay of time,” Zelda said. “It seems to have worked too well.”

Reede closed his eyes briefly as the gathered crowd gasped and shouted in surprise, and a look of exhaustion briefly passed over his face. Then, he shook his head. “Who would I be to doubt our elders?” he asked rhetorically. “If our Uma vouches for this claim, then this child’s body contains the mind of one of Hateno’s greatest friends: Purah. That means that our whole village is gathered here to witness this exchange.”

Reede now strode through the crowd to reach the front of the room, and he stood beside Link and Zelda to address the village. “Let me state, first, some facts. The swordsman came to Hateno already a hero, for he put his life on the line to save Meghyn and Nat from a band of formidable monsters. He drove away other raiders who would have harmed our cattle and robbed us of our main form of trade. He has patronized all of our businesses and helped honorable Bolson expand his business to the far corners of Hyrule, in turn bringing more trade and interest back to our town.”

He looked around at the upturned faces of the village and allowed the weight of his words to sink in.

“He has committed no offense against any one of us, yet when Link brought a fair woman back with him from his travels and battles, you did not welcome them home with open arms. Rather, our minds turned to malicious rumors about our _friend.”_

In the silence left by his words, one could have heard a pin drop or an eyelash fall. Reede had not raised his voice, nor had he injected any condescension or scorn into his tone. There was only a weariness and worry in his voice, and if Zelda were to be honest, it carried more weight.

Zelda spared Link a quick glance and found his eyes focused firmly on his hands, clasped around the Yiga’s mask and the pommel of the Master Sword. The tips of his ears were red beneath his hair.

She then looked out at the crowd and found few people willing to catch her gaze. Many of their downcast faces were red with shame, and she failed tried to recall any situation in which she had ever been witness to such an awkward berating. She certainly did not enjoy it.

Reede began to speak once more.

“Now, I will tell all of you gathered here: I have spoken to the young lady, and on her word alone, I believe that she is the Princess of Hyrule. I believe that our swordsman—our friend, our _hero_ —Link freed her from the curse of the Calamity. I believe that they are responsible for the peace that has fallen over central Hyrule, and for driving the bokos and moblins back to their dark caves when they once roamed our trade routes and terrorized our traders. I believe them, and because of that, I have apologized on each of your behalves. If I hear another whisper fueled by your suspicious hearts, you will have made me a liar. Link and Zelda have made Hateno their home, among all the settlements in Hyrule. Do not drive them out so soon.”

The hair on the back of Zelda’s arms stood on end as a nervous chill shook her from head to toe. It was now or never.

She clasped her shaking hands in front of her and raised her chin. “I have not met all of you yet,” she said, and she thanked the Three that her voice did not shudder as her body did, “but let me introduce myself now: I am Zelda. I am Link’s traveling companion. We are together on a journey to ensure the safety and peace of every corner of Hyrule, but…we have come to call Hateno our home, for ours were destroyed long ago. Many of our friends and allies have fallen, and we have nothing to our names but one another.”

Zelda looked out at the crowd imploringly. “We ask nothing of you, Hateno. Nothing at all. Except…” Zelda bowed low, from the hip as she had been taught. ”I must ask you to forgive me, and Link, and Reede, for the fuss caused today.”

“What about the thing that started all of this?” Sayge’s flustered wife, who Zelda had often seen sulking on the stoop of the dye shop, seemed even more bothered than usual. “The attempted _murder?!_ When are they going to catch on that we’re harboring these guys and start killing _us?”_

Zelda sensed an immediate change in the mood of the room. While before, the villagers seemed to bear no genuine ill will toward Link and Zelda, Senna’s words had given them a sudden, grim, realization—and it was clear that several of the parents in the crowd were very troubled by it.

Link did not move, but even without speaking, he commanded all the attention in the room. Even Zelda felt the tug of the gravity in his eyes. “We’re leaving today,” he said. “Zelda and I can’t rest until we've driven out this danger to Hyrule, to our people. To you.” He dropped the Yiga mask on the floor, sheathed the Sword of Evil’s Bane, and with his bloodied hand, reached for the Sheikah Slate on Zelda’s hip.

Zelda felt that, perhaps, this was the cowardly move. Perhaps it was too dramatic. But she did not protest.

“Purah. Ciera. Best of luck.”

Ciera bowed, and the last thing Zelda heard before she was swept away, was Purah’s frustrated shout.


	41. Return to Ruin.

They were placed down on top of their packs, where she kept the Travel Medallion. Their house was dark and quiet.

Neither of them were keen to break the silence, and they knew what they had to do. They changed out of their blood-stained clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, then donned some semblance of armor. Zelda, mindful that she would need to make a commanding entrance, donned her full set of golden armor. Besides the tabard of Link’s Royal Guard uniform, the piece of fabric that hung from her breastplate was the only thing they owned that bore the symbol of her family. Her only hair tie had become a bandage, so she shook out her hair and allowed the braid-set waves to fall loosely down her back. With her sword at her side and her radiant shield slung across her shoulders, she was sure to cut an imposing figure.

It was clear, when Zelda caught a glimpse of Link’s armor scattered across the floor, that he was determined not to be caught with his guard down again anytime soon. Link donned the underlayers of his Champion’s uniform—the gambeson, the vambraces—and the tunic itself, then donned some leather armor atop it. Beneath, he equipped the ancient greaves and across his back, he slung the Hylian Shield alongside the Sword.

As they changed, Zelda could only replay the events of the day and grow increasingly frustrated with how things had turned out. The more time passed, the more frustrated she was, and not only for Link’s sake. Though he had spent much more time in Hateno than she, Zelda had hoped to find the same peace that he clearly had found there. After the awful confrontation they had just had with the entire village, she could not imagine that she would ever feel so welcome. She hoped they wouldn’t ask him to relinquish ownership of his beautiful home… _Perhaps they will accept him back, she thought bitterly, but not while I’m part of the picture._

When they finally met beside the kitchen table, both were already perspiring. Zelda could only hope that the interior of the castle would be cool, as it often was in the summers of her youth.

Link had tied back his long hair in his usual style, but as Zelda stood across from him, she was struck by the contrast between the Hero that stood before her now, in the tunic she had made herself, and the boy she had traveled with so long ago. He was not quite so gaunt as he had been when he greeted her on Hyrule Field after the defeat of the Calamity, but the feral gleam in his eye was stronger than ever. As much as she felt he deserved to own a house and lead a peaceful life, a part of her knew that he did not belong there. He did not belong in a house, or in a castle. No. He belonged in the wild.

Zelda reached for Link despite the heat and found his hand.

“I’m sorr—”

 _“Please!”_ Link’s voice was tortured, and it stopped her and her racing thoughts in their tracks. “Zelda, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to be your knight and your friend. That’s all I want to do right now. Hateno will forget this ever happened, or they’ll have rumors enough to sustain them for a generation to come. It doesn’t matter. I’ll live with it once I know that it’s _possible for us to live_ without fear.”

Zelda stared at him, lips parted in complete shock. As he spoke, his eyes had begun to burn with a golden light that she had never seen before. It illuminated his lashes and cheekbones, and she _felt_ its heat on her face as well. The strength of his conviction was tangible in that gaze, and she knew then that she had perhaps projected her own worries onto him. This was her Link. He would survive this. He would find his own peace, even in the storm.

And he was absolutely certain that he _had_ found it. In her.

He blinked, and the glow subsided, but the warmth did not leave her. For a moment, their spirits had been connected so directly as to hear his thoughts—and Zelda found that the feeling was not quite as foreign as it should have been. She reached for him again, and Link came closer and bent to rest his sweaty forehead against hers, attracted by the same gravity, the same need to be as close as they had been just a moment before. “Zelda…did you…?”

“Yes,” she said quietly up to him. “I..felt the shape of your thoughts.”

“Was that you or me?”

“I think it was _you,”_ she replied in a hushed voice filled with awe.

They stood in silence and pondered the meaning of what had just occurred, but they both knew that the other did not possess the answers they sought—not yet.

“Zelda… I didn’t know the people here very well at all. And I didn’t, and don’t, care what they think about us. I knew the Yiga would come here, someday, regardless of your presence. Demise and Ganon hate me even more than they hate you.” His breath was hot across her face, and though the strange golden glow had subsided, the intensity of his gaze remained. “All I want in this life is to be by your side. To protect you from harm. To love you. That’s enough for me.”

He leaned down to press his lips to hers. She didn’t need to read his mind to understand the depth of feeling behind his words. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself fully over to the feeling of his lips against hers. He was more than happy to deepen the kiss, and as her lips parted, he explored her mouth with a sweeping movement of his tongue. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, and that of his hands now on her cheeks, and the smell of his freshly cleaned hair and clothes filled her with the same sense of peace he had conveyed to her through his thoughts.

She hummed softly in the ebb between kisses, and for a moment, her mind was blissfully free of concerns.

At last, Link gave the corner of her lips, then her nose, then her forehead, a last kiss. And by an unspoken agreement, they simultaneously reached for the Sheikah Slate.

They landed at a Shrine that had appeared somewhat inexplicably in the docks. The giant brazier that looked over the docks was lit and attended to by a Sheikah warrior; the man was startled by their appearance, but fortunately he did not rush to attack. Once he recognized who they were, he fell into a low genuflect.

“Y-your Highness,” he gasped. “We were not expecting you.”

“I know. I apologize. Please, can you announce our presence? Is Granté here? Who is coordinating all of our plans?”

“It is Granté himself,” the Sheikah replied. “I can fetch him at once. Where would you have him meet you?”

Zelda bit her lip. She hadn’t quite thought about that. “Let us meet at the front gate,” she said at last. “Tell him I expect a full tour.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The Sheikah vanished, and Zelda released the breath she did not know she had been holding.

Link put a hand on her shoulder. “The way should be clear of Malice now,” he said. “It’s just crumbled stone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied sadly, “it will break my heart anyway. I just…hope I don’t cry.”

The hand on her shoulder moved to brush her hair aside, and Link leaned closer to kiss her cheek from behind. His breath on her ear tickled her to her toes. “No one would blame you if you did,” he said softly, “but, Courage, Princess.”

Zelda had long known of the secret passageway between the library and the docks, as it was one of the many escape routes Impa had forced her to memorize as a young girl. When they reached the top of the stairs, they found that the disguised metal bookshelf had already been pushed aside to allow free passage between the rest of the castle and the docks.

Link had told her of the decrepit state of the library, but it seemed that in the light of day and after some effort by the Sheikah, the worst of it had been cleared away. The tables and podiums had been removed, and the floor swept clean of refuse. Books had been moved away from the gaping hole in the roof to keep them safe from the elements, and they sat safely in the alcove that Zelda now knew to be her father’s secret study.

The floors had not been polished like she remembered them, but she tried to not think about that as she and Link headed up the stairs at the far end of the library. At the top of the stairs, they found a a giant mountain of rubble clogged with furniture and dirt. Someone had made progress in shoveling heaps of the rubble away, but the remnant was formidable.

“I don’t think they’ll have cleared all of the doorways,” Link said quietly. “We should climb out and go by the outer paths.”

He led her to the massive hole in the roof and boosted her over the wall. Zelda knew that there was no direct path from their current position to the front gates, but when she saw Link ready his glider, she went to pull hers from where she kept it folded and tied to her hip.

They jumped off a ledge and landed near the watchtower just beneath the grand dining hall. They did not stay there long before they took another running jump and reached the watchtower just east of the main gate; they passed silent, inactive Guardians—decayed Stalkers, crashed Skywatchers, frozen Sentinels—and Zelda shuddered to think of the dangerous fortress Link had faced in approaching her prison.

Then, for the first time, Zelda saw what remained of Castle Town.

Not a single structure had been spared by the Calamity—not even the skeletons of them. Not even the trees had been spared: only their burned husks stood in their places. The walls of Castle Town had been reduced to a patchwork of rubble and isolated towers, and she could only make out the barest suggestion of the central fountain.

Zelda raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the rising urge to retch. The only things that remained intact were _several_ Guardian Stalkers.

She suddenly dropped her hand an balled it into a fist. “Come on,” she said to herself, and she set off around the edge of the road to reach the great gates of Hyrule Castle.

A familiar shock of dyed-blond hair gleamed in the afternoon light, and sure enough, Granté had beat them to their destination. He was not dressed in his Sheikah clothes, despite being in charge of a force of Sheikah warriors. Rather, he wore his own set of ancient armor that was different than Link’s in style but not in function. More of his bodysuit was covered by stone plates, and rather than having the interior covered with the amber inlays of Link’s armor, every plate was _edged_ with it. Zelda immediately wondered what the function of it was, for the difference was so stark between the two armor sets that she could not imagine it to be just an aesthetic choice.

“Welcome, Zelda,” Granté shouted, and he raised his hand to wave. “I’ve been told you would like a complete tour. I think that’s wise, because the more obvious routes through the castle have been blocked, and you’ll need to learn the new paths we’ve laid out to get around.”

He clasped Link’s hand in greeting, then clapped Zelda on the shoulder. “I’ve planned this to end in the library,” he told her, “because I _do_ have some good news.”

Zelda did not know where Granté had gotten it from—certainly not from his father—but he seemed to have a very good understanding of what she needed to know about her castle. He recited the passages that had been blocked off with rubble in a logical order, so that she would know which of her instinctive routes she could not take. He pointed out what rooms were in the best shape, and what they were currently being used for.

The watchtowers were largely clear of debris and creatures, though one golden lynel had taken _fourteen_ of their best warriors to drive out; those were now being used as workshops, for Rito carpenters and Goron stonemasons who appeared shortly after the Sheikah’s arrival and offered their services. None were under any suspicion--Granté had been sure to fully vet them. The guards’ chambers had been cleared of filth, and most of the Sheikah stayed there. Few beds had survived the century of monster filth, so all that Granté had to offer were bedrolls, should Link and Zelda be staying. The Sanctum floor had been absolutely destroyed, and thanks to Link, they knew of the prison that lay far beneath it was inescapable—so they had not yet attempted to restore it. They _had_ very carefully removed the one intact throne and several banners, and they had placed them in the cleaned dining hall. They had replaced many of the broken doors in the dining hall, removed the broken tables and all traces of moblin residence, and Granté assured her that it was fit for a queen to receive an audience.

She had been well-practiced in memorizing streams of logistics such as this, and she cataloged each and every detail in her mind so that she could write it all down later. She heard no mention of her mother’s old rooms, or the king’s quarters, and she wondered if perhaps the secret passages only she had known about remained. That was something she and Link could discover on their own, and in the meantime, she did not tell Granté where she and Link would plan on staying.

Perhaps the thing that saddened Zelda the most was the complete destruction of the _history_ of the castle. No tapestries or portraits or statues had been spared in the past century, and the Sheikah still worked to remove their tattered and smashed remains. Portraits of her family, and of legendary figures, and of historical events, were gone. The only record that they had ever existed was her own memory, for not even her knight remembered hem.

They finally reached the library, where they had first entered the castle. A chalkboard had been wheeled in during their tour, and a bundle of bundled scrolls lay beside it. Granté led them straight to it.

“Now, if you want to rest, please stop me…but if I’ve gotten to know one thing about you it’s that you can’t resist a chance to learn,” Granté said.

“You have me pinned,” Zelda replied, and she approached the chalkboard eagerly.

Granté went to the uppermost left corner of the chalkboard and began to write in a small, cramped hand. Zelda’s excitement blossomed in her chest. “You must have a lot to tell me, then,” she noted.

The scholar grinned over his shoulder, behind his long fringe, and winked at her and Link together. “Oh _yes.”_

In the leftmost corner, Granté had written, _“Questions at Hand.”_ Then, in a line across the top of the board, in slightly larger lettering, he wrote: _“Forgotten Temple. Zonai/Lomei/Thyphlo. Divine Beasts.”_

Beneath each topic, Granté then listed a series of questions:

**Forgotten Temple.**

_Where is the Forgotten Temple?_

_What is inside it and what can it do?_

_Why do the Yiga want to destroy the Temple?_

_How can Demise speak to the Yiga?_

**Zonai/Lomei/Thyphlo.**

_Who were these tribes?_

_What connection do they have to dragons?_

_What connection do they have to the Sheikah (Shrines, Guardians, etc. in Labyrinths)?_

_Why did they build Labyrinths?_

_Where did they go?_

_Where are they in the Sheikah Tapestry of the Calamity?_

**Divine Beasts.**

_What powers them?_

_Why must they not be without a pilot?_

_What is the aura? Where does it come from?_

_What fires the Ancient Furnaces?_

_What is Malice? How could it corrupt the aura?_

Zelda clapped her hands. “Oh, Granté, this is so thorough. And you say you have good news?” She looked at Link with gleaming eyes. “Link, having it all laid out here, doesn’t it feel so manageable?”

Link raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged in response. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Granté to find him grinning even wider, now with a sheet of notes in hand. Under the Divine Beasts column, he wrote, in response to his first question: _The Tears of the Goddess Hylia (Scroll #13)_ Under the second question, he added another question: _How are they operated? (Spirit?) (Scroll #25)_ And beneath that, _Sentient? Aware? (Scroll #25)_ Under the third bullet, he listed only: _Scroll #13._

He turned to Zelda again. “I found these scrolls in the royal legendarium, so they may not be entirely factual. They are mythic tales and epic poems—but I believe they have answers, at least partial ones.” He tapped the third bullet. “Scroll thirteen describes the custom of giving amber offerings to the White Goddess. Amber has been tied to her existence since the very First Age, before history and before Hylia’s People were sent to the sky. In summary, as a young goddess in a young world, Hylia had never experienced tragedy. When at last she experienced the great evil that could corrupt men’s hearts, she wept tears of sunlight that hardened into stone. When Nayru saw the beauty of her daughter’s tears, the Cold One was so moved that she granted them great power that caused them to glow blue. Hylia dedicated that power to the protection of her people.” He handed Zelda the scroll. “I do recommend you read it, it’s a moving story.”

Zelda was speechless, and it took everything in her power to restrain herself from opening the scroll immediately. The Cold One had once been moved by her sorrow. Nayru had been _called_ the Cold One—that was news as well, though from Link's description of her, it made sense.

Link came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, and he rested his chin upon her shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one who calls her that,” he said sarcastically in her ear, and she snickered a little as she elbowed him to shut up.

“Scroll twenty-five describes the creation of the Divine Beasts as something suggested by Farore herself. They were constructed of amber to facilitate the use of Hylia’s tears, but they required a different kind of power to actually give them life. They require a pilot because otherwise, the Divine Beasts cannot live. That is, the pilots are directly connected to the Divine Beasts, and it is through their very life force that the Divine Beasts are piloted. Hylia’s tears give them their own intelligence and desires, but it is their pilot that gives them life.”

“That’s why they’ve stuck around,” Link said. “They could have rested after the Calamity was defeated. They’ve been free to go this whole time. But they’re waiting for their replacements so that the Divine Beasts don’t have to be alone for long.”

“And hence your quest,” Granté said.

“The Champions always spoke of their Divine Beasts as though they were alive… I always thought that was just because of their…awe or affection for them, as machines, or as horses.” Zelda leaned to the side and put a finger on her chin in consideration. “Go on, Granté.”

The Sheikah scholar began writing again. “There’s little known about the ancient people or peoples we refer to as the Zonai, Lomei, and Thyphlo. Even in Sheikah lore, they are not mentioned as far as I understand it. However, if one looks closely at the tapestry that Impa has kept safe, there is a clear difference between the figures shown to be Sheikah, and the figures of the four Pilots, and the figures of the Goddess Blood Princess and her Chosen Knight.” He gestured with a piece of chalk at Link. “From the artifacts we’ve found, the Lomei were a tribe of warriors. From the pictures that Link has taken on the Slate, and his own stories, I believe that the labyrinths were meant to be filled with great danger, as a ritualistic challenge of some kind. Perhaps they were built in cooperation with the Sheikah, or perhaps my people came later and adapted the ruins to be challenges for our Hero. Either way…”

Beneath who, he wrote: _One and the same? Three different groups?_ With regard to dragons, he wrote,  _Worshiped three dragons (Thyphlo Ruins, perhaps Spring of Courage; see Link’s evidence)._ He left the connection to the Sheikah blank but for— _Shrines?_ —and continued to the Labyrinths with a shorthand version of his original hypothesis. “I almost don’t want to write down what I think about these last two questions,” he said sheepishly. “It sounds insane, but I think that the Zonai and Lomei and Thyphlo were distinct tribes who worshiped Farore, Mother of Courage—and I think that the Chosen Knight in Impa’s tapestry is one of their warriors. Link, do you have a picture of it?”

“The tapestry?” Link took the Slate from Zelda’s hip and scrolled through his album. “Yeah.”

They zoomed in on the figure of the Hero, and Granté inspected it closely. “The Hero’s skin and hair are entirely different colors than that of the princess. But look at his hand, Zelda.”

“It seems to be a different color,” she noted, “and his dress also seems to contain the same golden thread.”

“Is it ringing any bells, Zelda? From this morning?” Link leaned further over her shoulder to meet her gaze, but she shook her head. The persistent tickling of a memory almost-recalled was stronger, but not enough to help now. “But you think that this wasn’t me?”

“Didn’t say that.” Granté held up his hands, chalk in one and notes in the other. “I just think that, whoever he was, was a Zonai warrior. He wears Farore’s sacred colors, and he wields the Blade of Evil’s Bane, doesn’t he? But the sword doesn’t look like your sword, and the colors, and the hand… I just don’t think we can tie it to any of the iconography that has been used for the Hero throughout the ages.” Granté stepped back to the board. “I don’t really have a theory about where they went. But I  _do_ have an idea of where you might find a clue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R! :)


	42. Secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to R&R!
> 
> Just in case you thought this fic forgot it has an M rating...it's starting to remember. Maybe not in this chapter...but soon. ;)

“You say you came from Purah,” Granté said. “I hope she told you at least a little of what I’ve found.”

“She showed me the scroll that spoke of the pilots of the Divine Beasts, and their helms. I know that Purah thinks there is a fifth Divine Beast, but I saw no mention of that in the scroll.” She felt Link’s surprise emanate from him at her words, but she did not turn to look at him. She was too caught up in the look of utter glee on Granté’s face. “She will, hopefully, be headed to the Temple of Time soon. But like you said, we don’t exactly understand the connection between the Zonai and the ancient Sheikah.”

Granté nodded. “I think that the Great Plateau hides a trove of boons for the Ancient Hero, left by the Sheikah—the equestrian armor that we’ve spoken about before, and perhaps something more powerful, to aid in the defense of central Hyrule. I think there’s a great chance that there will be records there as well that might explain that connection.”

He shrugged once more spread his hands out. “Now, as exciting as you and I think these are—these are just curiosities. There’s one thing that truly matters to you, I should think.” He tapped his piece of chalk on the only column he had not yet addressed. “I don’t know exactly why the Yiga want to destroy it. But I think I know what the Forgotten Temple _was.”_

_Scroll #117: Surface and Sky United_

“Few records remain of the First Age of Hyrule,” Granté began, “but this scroll tells of a great temple from the land in the sky falling to earth. It was this temple where the Triforce was once used to defeat Demise, and I think it was forgotten on purpose.”

Zelda nearly ran to Granté to hug him. She nearly dropped to her knees in gratitude. Instead, she hugged herself tightly, and she felt herself shake from excitement. “Granté, where did you find this?” she whispered incredulously. “This is a _historic_ find. This is amazing. Just amazing!”

Granté blushed and raised a chalk-covered hand to push back his hair in embarrassment. “Thank you, Zelda. I burned through many candles trying to find anything that could help you.”

Link released Zelda and took a step back; when Zelda turned, she found his face creased with a worried frown. He drew his sword and placed the flat of the blade against his forehead, as though concentrating with all his might on communicating with the spirit inside.

Granté approached Zelda. “Does the spirit in the Sword still speak?”

“To him, yes.”

“And she forgets nothing,” Link said. “She struck Demise down herself, in the hand of the Hero. She trapped his essence within her blade, and even to this day, his evil has not stirred.”

“But he speaks to the Yiga,” Granté said, incredulous. “Each of them claim it. I _myself_ sensed a tremendous evil in their presence while they claimed to commune with him.”

Link opened his eyes at last, but he did not lower his Sword. “Demise was no match for us. It’s always been the spirit of his Hatred and Malice that haunts us. _Always.”_ His eyes locked with Zelda’s, and in them, she saw a ghost of that darkness that had haunted him a century ago. She fisted her hands in the fabric over her breastplate, and she tried to convey that he must not despair. Not yet. Not now. But no matter how her heart wrenched, no matter how hard she thought her thoughts, their minds remained closed to one another; their spirits, separate.

Link lowered the Master Sword, which pulsed briefly with Divine Light. Granté chewed his lip, clearly hungry to ask more about the blade, its mechanics, and its history, but reticent now that the mood had changed.

“Granté… Until we know for certain what is going on…it may not be wise to spread the idea that I did not completely banish all of Ganon’s evil from this plane.” Zelda put a hand on his shoulder. “But I trust you. You’ve done a marvelous job, and I’d love to help you with more research while I’m here.”

“Of course, Zelda. And how long _will_ you be here for?”

“A week at the most,” she replied. “We have given Vah Ruta a new pilot, but Rudania and Medoh remain. And then—whatever the Goddesses have in store for me.”

“That’s plenty of time to go through these archives with me!” Granté grinned. “There are so many _little_ things that you might know, given your tutelage, that have been lost to all but Impa. That’s so exciting. Will you be joining us for the evening meal?”

“Not tonight. I think I need a little time to reconcile my memory of this place with how it stands today.” Zelda offered Granté a wan smile. “But if possible, tomorrow morning I would like to address everyone in residence here. Could you be sure to gather them for an audience?”

“Of course.” Granté bowed. He seemed to understand when he was dismissed, and he began packing up his bag of scrolls. Before he left, he handed the scroll of Hylia’s Tears to her. She held it to her chest and waved him off.

Once she was certain he was out of earshot, she returned her hands to their place over her heart and turned to Link. “Never— _never_ —has a threat as great as the Calamity reappeared so suddenly as this,” she told him. “I don’t have…the clearest memory of the day I banished him, but it’s entirely feasible that Ganon could return. But not this soon.”

“Not of his own doing,” Link agreed. His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. “But from wherever he is, he’s telling the Yiga to destroy the Forgotten Temple. Whatever is in there has to be the secret to his return.”

“Which, honestly, is comforting.” Zelda felt her face twist with bitterness, and she tried to shake it off. “At least it’s not the secret to _our_ immediate destruction.”

Link made a sound in the back of his throat, and Zelda sighed in response. “Perhaps neither of us are in the best mood for this, but I would like to seek out some hidden passageways that Impa taught me about as a girl. Some of the items we need have been hidden there.”

Link’s eyes lit up immediately. _“Love_ secrets,” he said enthusiastically, and sheathed the Sword.

They had to study the map of the castle very carefully to figure out how to reach certain hallways and passages, but after scaling some walls and employing their gliders, they reached the first secret door. Zelda had had the lowest hope of finding this one intact, but the wall it was camouflaged in was undisturbed. Covered in soot and grime and cobwebs, but undisturbed.

She bent low and found the one stone with loose grouting, and she carefully pulled it out to trigger the mechanism of the door. With a mighty groan, stone grated upon stone, and the door swung open halfway. Inside was a pristine—if dusty—metal chest bearing her coat of arms, and several rat-eaten bags that had once contained rations. Inside the chest lay her spare cloaks of protection: her Eldin robes and her Snowquill were among them, in addition to her sapphire headdress and a spare set of her expedition clothes from one hundred years ago. She found a small dagger, the only weapon she had ever held, before the Calamity, and left that where it lay.

“This leads back down to the docks,” she told Link, gesturing to the narrow break in the wall at the back of the alcove. She could see just from the look of concentration on his face that he had already committed this to memory. Good. Someday, it might come in handy.

Zelda led the way to the next hidden chamber. There had once been a hallway lined with stone statues dressed in armor, but all had been robbed of their valuables, and some had been smashed to pieces. It nearly threw her off, but she eventually found the base of the correct statue and pushed it aside to reveal a drop into a damp, dark room. Link jumped in first, and upon his signal, she followed.

It wasn’t a far fall, but he caught her in his arms nonetheless. She gave him a fleeting kiss and then stole away. The light from the torches in the hallway, and the light cast by his ancient armor, was just enough to see by, and she had seen exactly what she had come for.

Her royal treasury may have lain barren for a century, robbed a thousand times over by cunning thieves, but she would not be robbed of a crown. Out of a dusty burlap sack, she withdrew the jagged golden crown of the Queens of Hyrule. In the center of the headpiece rested a diamond, surrounded by jagged golden flower petals which were, in turn, wreathed in jagged golden leaves. A bead of ruby jingled musically from where it hung beneath the diamond centerpiece. The diamond itself reflected a rainbow.

She handed it brusquely to Link, double-checked the burlap sack for the rest of its contents, namely, the queenly blue gown that had once been her mother’s but had since been tailored to fit her. She threw the sack over her shoulder carelessly, then set off resolutely down the tunnel they had entered. Behind her, Link found and opened a Guardian shield for some light.

“This leads to my mother’s chambers.” Her voice echoed endlessly back at her. “Impa would have taught you all of these, in your training. My mother told me once that you would practice your stealth by leaving flowers behind your mother’s back when she was on watch in front of the Queen’s rooms.”

Link was silent behind her, but she felt the need to continue.

“For most of my life, I was aware of your existence—on the other side of the door, or in the corner in the dining hall, aiding your father on guard duty or training with Impa… All the other guardsmen and squires and recruits were older than us. You were the only child close to my age I ever met. And when my mother died and Ellia and Impa became my own personal guards, I thought that maybe you and I would be friends.”

She cast a sardonic smile back at him. “One time, you _dared_ to smile at me. Impa slapped you the moment my back was turned, but I suppose that was when I realized you would forever be out of my reach.”

Link’s steps slowed, and she stopped to consider him. In the blue light of the Guardian shield, his features were difficult to read. Perhaps they were blank, but perhaps they were sad. She was bitter as well, but in reflecting upon those days, Zelda was even more astounded that they had found themselves here, together.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly, in the darkness.

“I _wish_ I remembered,” he replied. “Of all the lives that I’ve forgotten, this is the one that pains me most, Zelda. I barely remember you—and you’re all I really remember.”

“I can’t tell you that I really knew what you were like then, either,” she said, in fairness. “But I loved you then, and I love you now.”

The look on his face now was contemplative, if marred with grief. He closed the distance between them and tilted her chin up with one hand so that he could kiss her.

In the darkness, even with only breath and warmth to go by, this kiss conveyed as much or more of his love than words could have. It was deep but chaste, searing but not wanton. They burned for each other, beacons in the depth of what could have easily been despair.

Zelda broke away and took his hand, then continued down the tunnel at a quickened pace. Her heart raced, which led her tongue to race as well, so she told him more of what she knew of his days in the castle. She worked backwards: there was one night, when he sat outside her bedroom door, that he must have heard her crying after an argument with her father. She had wailed that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, in private, to curse the gods—and she had been interrupted by a clatter on the _balcony_ of all places. When she had gone to investigate, she found a slice of her favorite fruit cake, and she knew he must have been responsible. She could not curse the gods through the cake in her mouth.

When they were in the castle, he was allowed to sometimes leave her side. Even still, he rarely seemed to stray far. Sometimes she would see him in his blue tunic scaling impossibly slick surfaces and nearly horizontal outcroppings. Sometimes she would catch him perched on the very tip of a flagpole in the distance, just a blue-and-gold speck flickering in the wind. Only once had she ever seen him slip, in the rain, climbing from the base of her tower to its crest. She would never have admitted it to herself then, or to anyone—not even her diary—but she had a moment of panic at the thought of being without him. Of course, he had caught himself in the knick of time and hauled himself onto the walkway with the grace of a bedraggled cat.

She had once asked him how he could go for days with what seemed like no sleep. He had told her then of Impa’s training…or some portions of it, at least, that wouldn’t offend her sensibilities. Impa would sneak into the barracks when he was a young trainee and wake him with a knife at his throat, to train him to allow his body to heal, and his mind to rest, without sleep. They didn’t know if it was something in his Sheikah blood, but by the time he came of-age, he needed only a few moments of deep sleep to last him a few days at least.

She spoke of his mother, and father, and their constant presence in her life. She told him of conversations her mother had had with Ellia about the Goddess, and motherhood, and love. Zelda had been so young, then, but she remembered many of those conversations…

She recalled watching him train as a small boy, smaller than all the other squires and pages and recruits. He had worn heavy plate armor, but she always knew it was him because of his shock of white-blond hair and blue eyes. She would walk by the yard every morning and see him there, but one day she _noticed_ him. Noticed that his hair had darkened, that he had pierced his ears, that he was fending off _men_ rather than other boys. And in the middle of that sparring match, he had noticed _her_ as well—but even when their eyes locked, he did not miss a single parry.

They reached what seemed to be a dead end, but Zelda felt around with one hand for the hidden hinge. Once she had found the groove, she slipped her fingers in and pulled with all her might. Link put his shoulder against the wall to her left, and it ground open.

The Queen’s rooms had largely been spared the ravages of time and the Calamity. The windows were black with soot, and the sitting area had completely caved in. But her mother’s bedroom was intact, as was her washroom, her library, and her walk-in wardrobe.

Link allowed her to slip out of his grasp and walk in to the closet. She buried her face in fistfuls of her mother’s gowns and inhaled the stale, but still comforting smell of her mother’s perfumes.

“I wish she could have known you,” she whispered into the fabric. Her mother had spoken of the Hero in a way no one else ever had. She spoke of the Goddess’s Chosen Knight as one whose courage led him to mourn with the sorrowful and comfort them. He would give of himself to Hylia’s people without hesitation…not out of undaunted bravery or brashness but _despite_ his fears. Out of true, selfless love. It occurred to Zelda, with tears pricking her eyes, that the Queen may have wished that her husband be more like the Hero of which she spoke so frequently. Zelda was not the only woman who had been scorned by the King.

She dried her tears in her mother’s dresses and turned back to Link. “It’s good to know these are all so preserved. I’d like us to bring these back to Hateno, if we can.”

“Of course.” His gaze wandered past her into the dim closet, and the ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “Was your mother _that much_ taller than you?”

“I will have them tailored!” She stuck her tongue out at him and moved to exit the closet, but her foot connected with something solid that nearly tripped her. Zelda bent to examine the object and gasped.

“Link!” She clutched the bow to her chest. “This is the Twilight Bow!”

His eyes did not show any particular recognition, but he could appraise the craftsmanship and magic nonetheless. “Have you ever been trained with one?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, hugging it even tighter. She did not want to be parted with it. “I remember some of my time with this bow, though! I will need your help developing the muscle memory, but if I can unlock my power, then this bow will allow me to channel the power of light into even the crudest arrow!”

 _“Oh.”_ Link could certainly appreciate that possibility. “I like the thought of you with a bow. Ranged. Out of trouble.” He grinned.

She stuck her tongue out at him again. “One day, I will be as versatile as you, my Hero. Let me look around for a moment more, then I would like to show you one more secret.”

She gathered some small trinkets from her mother’s jewelry boxes—a signet ring, some hair ornaments, a seal for official correspondence—and scouted the room just to take stock of what else remained. Then she led Link back through the tunnel and to the exterior of the castle. The sun dipped low on the horizon, and the water that cascaded down the cliff beside the seemed like molten gold in the evening light.

Just a short ways away, Zelda found the window she had been looking for. “There is no door to this room from the inside,” she said. “You’ll need to give me a boost.”

They shoved the window open, and Zelda stood on Link’s knee to clamber onto the sill. She nearly fell head-first into the narrow little room, and Link nearly landed on top of her when he dove in.

They dusted each other off, then looked down the hallway in both directions. It was cramped; there was only really room for one person to shuffle along sideways, but it was secret, and it was safe.

“This connects my room to the jail,” she told Link. “We’re going to my room.”

The tunnel was steeply sloped and the floor was slick in some places, and Link caught her by the elbow more than once just before she slipped. When they at last reached the top of the slope, she pointed at the sliver of light that fought its way through a crack in the ceiling. “This will be under my bed,” she told him.

“Then it might be blocked.”

The tunnel was slightly short, so that Link had to stoop, for it had been constructed with child princesses in mind. With his shoulder braced against the tile in the ceiling, Link pushed himself straight.

Fortunately, the Sheikah had cleared out most of the rubble from her chambers and swept the floor clean. The tile popped out of place with ease, and Link shoved it aside.

They heaved themselves out of the tunnel and onto their knees in her room, then pushed the tile back into place. “Impa taught me all of these escape routes when I was very young,” she said as she accepted his hand and stood. “But this _one_ passage, not even she knew about.”

Zelda pulled a book out from the rightmost bookshelf and held her breath. It took a moment, but the mechanism creaked and groaned, but then the bookshelf clicked. She grasped the edge of it and swung it open to reveal a winding staircase leading down.

Link jumped a little when the bookshelf swung back into place after them and plunged them into pitch darkness, but Zelda gave him a reassuring smile when he activated the Guardian shield and illuminated her face once more.

She trailed her fingers across the stone rail as she descended, and she remembered the day she had discovered the one book that unlocked this secret room. As a young princess, she’d had no idea what purpose this room could have served except as a hidden playroom. Now, she had a much better guess.

“Welcome home, Hero.”


	43. Focus and Motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover your eyes, children.

It was too dark to see the room well, but Zelda felt around on the wall beside the staircase and found a cord, which she then pulled on to dislodge a window cover. The front of the cover had been painted to resemble the outside rock face, and there was no glass on the window, further aiding the camouflage. As Zelda let the cover fall, the last light of day streamed into the room, and Link finally understood what this was.

He stepped into the first circular chamber and felt as though he were stepping into a space beyond time. As he turned in a slow circle, a heavy curtain seemed to fall over his eyes and fill his ears, isolating him in a deep reverie. This was not the first time he had been in this room, stood in this beam of light, drank in the history around him, but he could not have pin pointed in which lives he had done so.

The walls of this room had been plastered smooth and painted, unlike any other room in the castle, and every square inch was covered in paintings. Some were better than others (some had clearly been painted by children, and untrained hands), but they created a cohesive tapestry nonetheless. A boy clad in green stood before a child princess locked in a cell, a lamp in hand—a wolf wearing a broken shackle raised his snout to the cheek of a hooded woman—a red Loftwing circled high above in the blue sky—Link remembered them all.

When Zelda approached and leaned her head against his shoulder, he was not startled from his reverie. Rather, he felt the peace and the stillness that enveloped him deepen. He slowly put his arm around her and held her close to his side. Her arms wrapped around him in reciprocation.

The room they stood in connected to another circular chamber, which connected on the far side to a third. Dusty furniture littered the room. There was a chaise lounge and two armchairs, bookshelves, end tables and a larger circular dining table, and a few trunks in this first room; though the light did not quite reach the second room, Link could make out the shape of a large bed, a kind of draping canopy, and some more couches. The third room was obscured by a gilded folding screen.

Zelda looked up at him with green eyes that glinted with a mischievous light. “Look in the chests, Link.”

He was loathe to leave her arms, but he did as she had commanded and went to the nearest trunk. His breath was stolen away at the sight of a pile of child-sized shields, and, beneath them, several short swords. The next chest contained other familiar objects: a shackle, several emblems and pendants, rotting magic boots, a rusty gauntlet, a dark and cold fire rod. Link turned to Zelda, though he did not get up from where he knelt by the chests. She had her hands clasped under her chin and appeared to be holding her breath as she watched his investigation, and a tentative smile danced across her lips.

“You know the best thing?” she asked, voice tight with excitement. “I _remember_ some of this, now!”

His own heart rose in his throat. Certainly, she had come to remember some of their lives lived in Twilight, but the rest—

She was quick to temper her response. “Well. _Well_.” She was framed by the fiery glow of sunset, and her face was half in shadow, but he could tell just from her voice that she was blushing. Her chin dropped lower and lower as she tried to hide her bashful smile. “Some of it.”

Link finally stood, and he fought back his own smile as he approached his princess. The sunset on her golden armor cast a gauzy aura around her, blurred her around the edges like a dream or a mirage. He raised his gloved hands to cup her face and lift it from its hiding place behind her hands. As soon as he got her to look at him, her hunched shoulders relaxed, and let loose a tense breath. Her hands fell to his chest and gripped the straps of his leather armor.

“You’ll have to tell me what you remember,” he said in an innocent tone.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes to petulantly avoid his gaze, and he chuckled. He swept some of her long, loose hair back over her shoulder, then behind her ear; her ears twitched as his fingers trailed behind them, and suddenly he could not stop fixing her hair, pushing it back away from her face and arranging it down her back like a golden waterfall.

Her brows knit together momentarily, then relaxed as she released another deep breath.

“I loved hiding here, when I was a child,” she said. “I thought these were all for my imagination. I didn’t even believe the Hero and the Goddess were _real_ when I was that age... I stopped coming down here after my mother died. It seemed like all of these past Heroes and Princesses were mocking me with their happiness and their triumphs.” She looked up at Link, and he was relieved to see that they were not obscured by tears or bitterness. Instead, they were filled with with the hope and happiness he had seen in her eyes more and more these days. “But now we’re well on our way to joining them, Link!”

Her knight lowered his forehead to hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “Which of our triumphs will we choose to record?” he asked her.

“Which do you think?”

“That risotto I made the other day really outshines anything I’ve ever done or anything I’ll ever d—hey!” He laughed heartily as her fist struck him in the chest, and he grabbed her hands swiftly. “I thought you _liked_ that risotto!”

She rolled her eyes. “There are many more things I love about you than just your cooking,” she said pointedly.

“Like what?”

He closed the distance between them again, though he did not release her hands.

“I love that you’re laughing again,” she said, eyes locked on his as he raised the back of her hand to his lips. “I know that you and I will overcome any evil that threatens us. I worry more about overcoming the sheer mountain of _responsibilities_ we face, but I know that we can accomplish anything now, the two of us…. I love that you love secrets and puzzles, like I do. I think that makes you a bit of a scholar, and I love that.”

His journey of self-discovery was still fresh in his memory, and all around him in this castle were reminders that he was meant to be only a servant, a knight, a weapon. Memories of lying alone in the dark wilderness with Impa’s and the king’s orders weighing on his shoulders were fresh in his mind. He still knew what despair tasted like, in tears on his cheeks in the Korok Forest. It filled him with such immense relief and love and joy to be recognized as more than just a weapon, when he had once thought no one would ever consider him as such.

She bit her lip as he kissed her other hand before he lifted them to his shoulders, drew her in to be closer than even before. Zelda’s fingers found the hair at the back of his neck, and she laced the fingers of one hand in his hair while the other idly caressed the warm skin beneath. They were so close now that her breath stirred the hair that hung in his eyes, and every blink of her golden lashes was felt on his cheeks. Here they were, he marveled, undisturbed at last. Not princess and knight but Link and Zelda, so close as to be intertwined.

“I love you so much, Link,” she said, “this wall isn’t enough. All these people we once were, were never allowed to love one another outside of this room. I want to share my love for you with all of Hyrule. I’m going to. I swear it.”

Zelda’s armor, as well-fitted as it was, provided a deeply unwanted and unmoving barrier between the heat of her body and his own. He kissed her as ardently as he was able, considering the obstruction, but even her response was thwarted when the joint of her shoulder armor got caught. She laughed a little sheepishly as he broke away and spun her around to begin undoing the clasps of her plate armor.

“So what do you remember?” he asked again. This time, he made sure that the teasing note was clear in his voice, pitched low in her ear. Her shiver caused her armor to rattle, and the knowledge that he had been the cause sent his heart racing. Despite the confidence with which she spoke, he still could cause her to shudder with just a word in her ear.

For every plate of armor that he set upon the ground, he made sure to run his hands down her newly exposed appendages. He felt the iron in her arms and shoulders, even beneath her padded gambeson; her fingers were long and delicate within her gloves; her taught calves curved elegantly into her narrow ankle and foot. Once he had removed her golden boots, Link ran his hands up her leg to her hip. He held his breath as his hands glided over the flat planes of her hips, then into the dip of her waist. She turned at last to face him, and there was heat in her cheeks as he finally began to unclasp her breastplate.

She continued to chew her lip nervously as he lowered the last piece of plate armor to the floor. When he straightened up again, she intercepted him with a kiss. She had discarded her gloves, and her bare fingers traced the line of his jaw and the sensitive skin of his neck. He was more than happy to acquiesce to her probing tongue, and he could not help the sound that escaped him when she leaned into him to explore his mouth. There was nothing warmer, nothing softer, nothing more exquisite than the feeling of her tongue against his.

Zelda batted away his hand when he tried to undo her gambeson, and instead she began to unstrap his leather armor and let it fall to the floor. His pauldron slipped away, then the belt for the Slate, his quiver, and his pack hit the ground. He did not make it easy for her to undo his bracers; he refused to stop touching her hair as he kissed her, and only reluctantly stopped doing so to allow her to slip them off with his gloves. Link’s breaths came deeper now as he drank in every sensation of her lips against his, her hands on his skin. The scent of her hair tickled his nose, and the warmth of her skin radiated from her like the sun.

Zelda broke away momentarily to more carefully address his swordbelt, and he took the opportunity to appreciate the pale stretch of her neck that was exposed between her hair and the collar of her gambeson. Link pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the juncture between her neck and her jaw, and his tongue on her skin elicited a gasp from her. Her hand fell to her side, with the Master Sword hanging from the belt she held. She did not drop Fi, but as Link continued to minister to her neck—now with his tongue—the belt slipped from her fingers, and the Master Sword slowly slid to the floor.

Her other hand found his hair again, and she tilted her head up to the ceiling to grant him better access as he now kissed her throat, then the other side of her neck, then the lobe of her ear.

“Link…”

Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it beneath his own heady breaths. When her fingers tightened in his hair to pull him away, however, he listened.

Instead of rebuking him, or saying anything more at all, she guided his lips to hers and continued her previous task: undressing him. She only broke away to tug his blue tunic over his head, then returned to his mouth while she found the clasp on the back of his white bodysuit. She undid it just enough for it to slide over his shoulders and settle loosely around his waist. Her bare hands immediately found his hips, his ribs, his chest; a sigh passed from her mouth to his—one of relief. Her palms roamed greedily across his abdomen, his chest, his shoulders, as she cataloged the raised scars and the smooth, unmarred skin between them. He felt the need to shiver, but he did not, for the pads of her fingers were as soft like velvet on his body, and they left a heat on his skin that sank deep, like a balm.

Link felt that, by now, he certainly had permission to touch her as he had always wanted to. _No priests, no kings, no messengers,_ he thought wryly. He pulled her hips to his with one hand, and with the other, he scooped up a handful of her hair and clasped the sharp curve of her shoulder blade to press her ever closer—and through perhaps the natural momentum of their dance, she picked up her feet just as his hand dipped below her hip, and he caught her against his waist in the air.

He chuckled as her ankles crossed behind his back, heels anchored into the dip between his butt and thigh. He caught a glimpse of her face and found her gaze just as intent and focused as he had expected. That intensity wavered when her eyes locked with his, and he surmised that she could not read his face as well as he could read hers; she was unsure of his intentions, unsure if she had been overzealous.

Link would dispel that doubt as soon as he could. But first…

“I would like to check the mattress for bugs and dust before I set you down in it,” he murmured, and as he spoke, his lips ghosted across the rigid line of the shell of her ear.

“If it was pristine one hundred years ago, it has to be enchanted,” she told him in a low voice. “It was here before I discovered it. It’ll be fine.” She pointedly returned to the kiss, but he could not stifle his laughter at her impatience. Perhaps out of retribution, she turned her attention away from his mouth and hung her head over his shoulder to get at his neck. He had a flash vision, or maybe a memory, of her _teeth_ finding the edge of his collarbone right before she did the very same thing; the jolt it gave his system caused him to tighten his grip on her thigh and grind her closer to the growing pressure in his trousers.

He hissed through his teeth, dug his fingers into her yielding flesh, then realized, when her grip on his hair tightened, that perhaps he needed to be mindful of his strength. “Sorry.”

“Mm,” she hummed in reply, against his throat, heedless.

He shifted his grip on her and walked them over to the bed. He found it, as she had claimed, pristine. It had been untouched by not only soot and ash but also the ravages of time, and insects. The bed was set with its long side against the wall, and a dark blue curtain, trimmed with gold, was draped above it like a canopy. It was longer and wider than his bed at home, but as he sat down on it, he was pleased at least to find that it was not as soft. Some things he had gathered in this life were better than others, and his soft bed in Hateno was one of them.

Zelda uncrossed her legs and sat heavily on his lap, cutting off any coherent thoughts that may have entered his head. She seemed as keen to relieve the friction between them as he was—and he was becoming a little desperate.

She pushed him backwards with a firm hand on his chest, and when he obliged her directive to lay down, she pounced forward to capture his lips in hers again. Her hands in his hair were more wanton; they massaged his scalp and caressed his ears and tilted his head to better suit her kiss. Her hips wiggled a little, adjusting herself closer to him, and then Zelda _moaned_ against his teeth. His hands ventured further up her thighs and cupped her bottom tightly, fingers curled beneath her, so near to where they both wanted to be.

Link let his head fall back as Zelda shifted her weight on him to allow herself more room to kiss his neck, then his sternum; she left a trail of hot, wet kisses down his breastbone, his abdomen, down to the bone of his hips. She had yet to discard his stone and amber greaves, but she slipped her fingers beneath the edge of his body suit and pulled it lower to expose more skin. Her hot breath hovered there for a moment; her hair cascaded forward from behind her shoulders and framed her face as she looked up at him with burning eyes.

He sat up on one elbow and reached to push her hair away from her face. Link could not tear his eyes away from hers as he tried to remember any time in this life he had seen her so sure of herself, so free of doubt or concern. There was no doubt in her green eyes—only expectation. It seemed that after their rocky morning, and the queenly role she had stepped into for most of the day, she was ready to do something entirely for herself.

Link watched intently as she pulled down the waist of his body suit and lowered her head to his cock. When her lips found the side of his shaft, it was like she had delivered an electric shock straight to his gut. He could not help the jump in his hips, his gasp, his tightened grip on her hair.

Zelda’s tongue ran the length of him once, twice, before she wrapped her hand around his cock and slipped its head into her mouth. His head fell back as the electricity in his veins turned to white fire and he had to clench ever muscle in his body to keep from falling apart then and there.

It took a few moments for Zelda to find her rhythm, but soon she slipped into a steady tempo: her palm slid up, her fingers tightened, her thumb swept, her tongue washed over his skin—a breath, short and sharp through her nose, then she pulled up, nearly to the point of releasing him, suction in her mouth—then down again. He tried to keep his bearing, but the world spun with every new motion.

His eyes burned with the effort to keep himself in check, but he could not help how he pulled on her hair. “S-sorry,” he said, shaking his hand free of the golden strands. “I don’t want to pull your—”

She removed her mouth from his cock but for a moment. “It feels good,” she said. “Do what you want with me, Link.”

His jaw dropped, and she laughed sheepishly. “I didn’t mean it that way, but maybe I do,” she said. “Please keep my hair out of my mouth, would you?”

His hips bucked a little too forcefully in response to her words, and she gagged briefly on the length of him, but he guided her quickly back up with a forceful hand in her hair. When she sank back down, one of her hands curled around his hip, then dipped beneath to the small of his back—to encourage him to move, to push, to respond to her.

Link moaned desperately and fell back fully onto the bed. He was closer than he wanted to be at this point, and he didn’t know what to do. He could not find his words, or even locate his extremities.

_“Zelda—”_

She pulled away just enough that the thrust of his hips did not hit the back of her throat, and her hand tightened on the base of his cock as her mouth accepted his release.

When he was done, she released him, and it fell back against his stomach. He tried to look up at her and caught an odd look pass across her face as she swallowed. A split second later she gagged again.

Link raised a hand to welcome her back into his arms, and she crawled up toward him. “You alright?” he asked, voice ragged.

Instead of responding, she kissed him ardently. Her mouth was slick against his, and he recognized the peculiar taste of _himself_ on her tongue, amplified and aromatic to the point where he did not blame her for choking on it. He cupped her face in his hands and swept his fingers across her cheeks to appreciate every muscle in her jaw, everything she had just done.

Then, though it was terrible to do so, he broke away to take care of his greaves and the body suit that had bunched up around his knees. He felt the tips of his ears burn when he finally kicked away the last article of clothing and sat beside her completely bare.

Her gentle hands found his shoulders, and he leaned his head back to look up into her eyes. She did not smile, focus returned.

“Link,” she said against is forehead. _“Touch me.”_


	44. Tremors of the Past.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give this chapter a big old **trigger warning.**
> 
> As tender and exhilarating as I hope Link and Zelda's first time is, I just can't let them have a moment of peace.
> 
> I'm curious to hear what you think about last chapter and this one. Please do let me know.

Her knight was more than happy to obey his sovereign’s command, and in one fluid motion, he had turned and caught her in the crook of his arm. His princess was pliant in his arms as he dipped her backward, into the bed, and began the work of unclasping her gambeson. Link lavished every exposed inch of skin with kisses and noted at what points her breath hitched, what he could do to make her grip on his hair and his shoulder tightened.

Finally, the last clasp fell aside, and Link pushed open the padded jacket to expose the expanse of her bare stomach and the cloth that covered her breasts. He slid one hand up her belly, across her ribs, then under the fabric to clasp the heated skin beneath. Her back arched into his touch, and he ran his thumb over the silken mound of her breast as he used his other hand to unbutton her trousers. The moment he had enough room to slip his hand inside, he raised himself back up to meet her lips for a brief, but searing kiss.

His fingers had found her already slick with desire, and he hung suspended over her to watch her reaction when he pushed two fingers past her undergarments and into her core.

Zelda’s lashes fluttered closed, her nails dug into his shoulder, the muscles in her legs flexed as she rocked into his touch. He was happy to follow the motion with motion of his own. His thumb rested on her clit, and with every rhythmic thrust of his fingers, he flicked the nerve back and forth to elicit as much of a response as he could from the angel beneath him. As he worked, Link pushed the fabric of her chest covering up to free her breasts. He could not resist taking each into his mouth, and he swept and spun his tongue around her nipples until each was rigid with desire. Nearby, he could feel her heart thunder, just as his did at the thrill of finally—finally—touching his Goddess, his eternal Princess, like this.

Goosebumps erupted on her chest when cool air hit the saliva on her skin. Zelda’s hands were everywhere, beyond her conscious control: they sought the warmth behind his ears, the hard line of his jaw, the coiled muscles in his shoulders and arms. Her gasps came freely; her moans grew louder. It did not take long for Zelda to cast aside any shred of inhibition and give herself over to him completely. He could feel her muscles tighten around his fingers as she neared her climax, and he caught her lips in a kiss to swallow her breathless cry.

There were tears in the corners of her eyes when he removed his hand and took a look at her. A blush had risen in her chest, and her skin glistened with sweat and traces of kisses. She was yielding and malleable in his hands and provided no resistance to the removal of every last shred of her clothing.

Link knelt between her legs when he had finished that task, and he hooked his arms beneath her thighs to bring her up closer to him. He still had enough reach to roam as far as her breasts with one hand, while the other gripped her hip to control her increasingly erratic shudders; when he had arranged her as he wanted, he lowered his head and licked her dripping core without restraint. With his tongue alone, he brought her back to the edge of climax and sucked in the taste and smell of her; now that they were, finally, free to enjoy each other in this way, he was in no hurry to complete the act. He was caught up in the thrill of his name on her lips, demanding, sensual, desperate: _“Ahh_ —Link! Mmm…ngh… _yes!_ Yes.” It had become an unending chant, and he wanted to see how far he could take her before words failed her.

Zelda’s hands fell back into the mattress with force, then they scrabbled at her hair, her throat, her breast for purchase as she slipped into that ecstasy only he could bring about. He swept her through each shuddering throw of her orgasm until she had wriggled completely free of him and curled in on herself, gasping for breath.

He climbed up closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders; their sweaty skin was sticky, but she turned into his embrace with a shiver.

“I…I need a moment,” she gasped into his chest, voice rough with emotion.

Her chest heaved with deep, unsteady breaths, and one of her hands had dipped between her legs to cover herself while the other pressed over her racing heart. From where he sat Link could not quite see her face. Nevertheless, he could feel the sudden change in her demeanor; something akin to anxiety rolled off of her in waves. He would not press it. As much as his muscles burned with the need to unite their bodies in the most ancient ritual, Link refused to push on when, he sensed, something of great importance was brewing in her mind.

“Link…” She did not meet his gaze, though she whispered his name. “All I can think of is… _him._ He forced his hatred into me, he wanted to defile my holy form. He… He…”

Link saw a large tear roll down her face and splatter on her breast, where her nails dug in to her skin as though to rip out her own heart. The back of her hand shimmered, but it was hard to tell if it was the sheen of tears or sweat or magic.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms and pressed her head against his chest. “I’m so sorry. I want it, but I can’t—”

“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair. His hands swept up and down her arms, to bring warmth back into them, to quell the goosebumps. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her wet cheeks, urgently and tried to convey that he understood, he felt her agony, he would do anything she needed to relieve her pain. Link rocked her in his arms and sheltered her with his body, though he knew what haunted her was incorporeal.

Eventually, her muscles relaxed, and she slung her arms around his neck. Her ear rested over his heart. “If you had not recognized me on the fields that day… I spent a century in solitary torture, alone with that monster… I don't think... I _couldn't_ live another moment alone, Link.”

Link continued to rock her, silently, for he did not know what else to say. He felt then that she was very far from him, and he did not know how to bring her back.

“You never let on,” he murmured. “I would have come to you, if you had called. Even if it meant my death.”

Zelda sniffed. “I don’t remember.”

He began to braid her hair as tenderly as he could, though his hands shook enough to make it a difficult endeavor. “You gave me Courage when I had none. You gave me strength for the journey, and you sent me out with your complete faith. You—”

“I what?”

Link swallowed shards of glass. Now was not the time. “You always sent me away with your love,” he said, which was true. “You told me my spirit was unbreakable. That you would not let me break again.” He tied off her hair and let the thick plait fall against her back. Then he dipped his head low to try and meet her eyes. “It was your strength, your faith, that defeated the Calamity. That’s why I _know_ you can drive him from your heart, as you drove him from the world.”

She raised a hand to wipe her eyes, and they both stared in shock at the golden Triforce that beamed from the back of her hand.

Zelda blinked at the light for a moment, then furrowed her brow in fury. “He has no hold on me,” she said through her teeth. “He will _not_ ruin this for me. _No one_ —man nor demon—will touch me, but for my Hero!”

The light pulsed but did not fade as it often had. When she placed her blessed hand upon his breast, the warmth of her Divinity spread through his spirit as it had in the wilderness, in the ruins, in his times of need.

Zelda pushed herself up in his lap and brushed away her tears stubbornly. “Link,” she said in a heady voice. Her green eyes searched his face for something, perhaps forgiveness, but he hoped that she knew he would give everything for her to feel better, to be happy, to have strength to fight her demons. When she threw her arms around his neck once more and rose to kiss him, he tried to convey all of that and more in his response.

Nothing about her tears or her torture had been erotic, and his body had calmed some since its earlier arousal. For a while, they simply passed breaths and kisses between one another’s mouths, stroked each other’s heated skin and sought comfort in one another. But it wasn’t long before her hands strayed lower between them—and the knowledge that she touched herself _for him_ was enough to send blood rushing back to his cock.

“How should we do this?” she asked breathlessly. They were entwined on their sides, trading kisses and moans. It was dark in the room now, for the sun had set long ago, but the light of the Triforce illuminated them together in bed. It was enough light to see the depth of Zelda’s arousal in her green eyes.

The sight brought renewed heat to Link’s face, and he procrastinated on his reply by reaching between them to slip his fingers easily into her dripping core once more.

She rolled onto her back, and he bit his lip as he followed her lead. He knelt on all fours above her, caged her in his arms. “This could be a way to start,” he murmured. “…Right?”

Zelda laced her fingers together behind his neck and dragged his head down to kiss him. “You’re correct,” she assured him. “There are many ways, I’ve heard.”

“All the time in the world?” He smiled hesitantly, and she kissed him again.

Link had to pull back from her so that he could pay attention to what he was doing with his hand, and his legs, and his hardened member. The _thought_ of it sliding into the tight space between her legs, where his fingers and tongue had already explored, was nearly his undoing. But he furrowed his brow and braced his forehead against her breast and guided the head of his penis between her folds.

It took a moment to slip in at the right angle, but he was slow to progress from there. He was tense, from head to toe, and a single long breath whistled through his teeth as he lowered his hips to hers.

Zelda foiled his cautious plans by raising her knee and canting her hips up into him. She seemed to also catch herself by surprise, he surmised by the gasp of pain that shook her; her inner walls clamped down on his length and seemed at once to pull and push him away.

Link was slow to realize that she was pulling his hair, and finally he followed the motion to look up at her. There were tears once again pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she licked her lips and nodded at him. “I’m alright,” she whispered. “Are you?”

He had no words to describe how he was doing, so he kissed her instead. He was buried to the hilt in her slick, hot embrace—he did not have to yield, to make space, to accommodate her inside of him. He was in heaven twice over, surrounded by every wonderful sensation he could imagine. Now he had to treat her to the same suite of experience.

He kept one hand between them, to pleasure her even as he remained inside her, unmoving. Her moans were lost in his mouth, but he felt them deeply in the hug of her muscles along his length, the clench of her thighs and the action of her foot hooked behind his leg and pulling him deeper. When he had decided that all signs pointed to her comfort and full enjoyment, he withdrew his hips a little and began to thrust—slowly, tenderly, in time with the tentative motion of her own body.

She did not lose the slight grimace that had crossed her face, but she had dropped her eyes to the space between them and seemed focused on keeping rhythm with his body. Her foot had fallen from his back and now braced her against the mattress, and her hands had slipped from his hair to explore the sliding muscles in his back. One of her hands skimmed across the scars that crisscrossed his skin and slipped lower to grip his butt, his thigh, and he unwittingly increased his speed in response to her touch.

Her head fell back further into the mattress, and the sound that emanated from her came from her throat, her chest—a groan, a whine—that made him stop what he was doing in an instant.

Link braced himself on his forearms, fingers in the ends of her hair, which was spread out across the bed; every strand seemed to glow with a faint white light, not enough to see by but enough to fill Link with awe. He was panting, not just from physical exertion but also from the effort of holding back his coming climax.

Zelda raised her hands to his head again and guided it so that their foreheads touched. There was a divot in her brow from how deeply she frowned, and her lips worked in vain to find words. “Forget it,” she rasped. “Just keep going.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Link resumed his favorite activity—kissing her—as well as his close second, which he had just discovered: making love with her. He tried to stop reading into her expressions as much and lose himself in what he was doing. He was thankful he was so dexterous, otherwise it might have been more of a task to remember to rub her clit as he started his thrusts slow and steady once more, while maintaining their heated kiss.

When his tempo began to increase, Zelda gasped and brought her knees up to change the angle in which he entered her; he could feel her tremble beneath him, and he caught her lower lip in his teeth when she gasped and finally succumbed to the first throws of ecstasy. He kissed her neck, her chest, her fingers, everywhere he could reach while he pursued his own finish.

His hips connected with hers loudly. Link fell forward again on his elbows, one hand fisted in her hair, groaning in her ear. He wiped his other hand on his hip before he brought it up again to thumb her cheek and check in, though he had no breath to speak.

Zelda swallowed hard, and another tremor wracked her body, in time with another rolling pulse of his orgasm inside her. It took several moments after he finished for Link to realize how hard Zelda’s nails were dug into the skin of his back. He was so loathe to leave her warmth, but he had also begun to realize how hot they were, how sticky they were. He sat up with slow, painstaking movements and pulled his now flaccid penis. He immediately flopped down into bed beside her, drained of fluid, drained of strength. He felt strangely emptied, and not in the euphoric way that he had imagined their copulation would leave him.

Zelda crossed her legs and ran a shaking hand over her face, into her hair. In the light cast from her hand and her halo, he could see her face screw up in a wretched expression.

“Zelda?” Link whispered, suddenly afraid to touch her. He drew his hand close to his chest to keep from reaching for her.

She nodded, then shook her head, then covered her mouth to stifle a small sob. Link stared at her with wide, helpless eyes. His heart was in his throat. Had he hurt her? Had he done something wrong?

Zelda rolled over onto her side and reached for him with one hand. She guided him close enough to wrap in a tight, one-armed hug, and she buried her face in his neck as she cried.

“I’m so afraid, Link!” she sobbed. “Don’t let him take me back into the shadows. _Please_ , I can’t—”

He held her tightly, as tightly as he could. “Zelda, you’re free. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He dug his fingers into the back of her head and shook her a little. _“I’m_ real, this is real, you’re safe. _You’re safe._ No one will take you from me again.”

She continued to cry until she seemed to fall asleep. As her consciousness faded, so did the light she held within her, and the room grew cold. Without releasing her, Link rolled them both under the covers and tried to shelter her with his body as best he could. He only wished that he could lay his own body down to protect her dreams.

  
_Zelda flew through the inferno that had engulfed Castle Town, but it would not engulf her. The smoke that rose from the blaze was black and choked her with the acrid smell of burning blood and flesh and hair; it billowed up and became the raging form of the Beast as it circled triumphantly around her ruined home._

_Guardians—the eight-legged tanks she had become familiar with, along with strange flying machines and rotating eye stalks—fell before her golden gaze, and their carcasses were consumed in the same fire they had set with their eye weapons. When she reached the great castle gates, thrown open so violently by the stream of Guardians, she stopped and turned her wrathful stare up at the Demon._

_When she spoke, it was with the strength of a thousand thousand voices, a thousand thousand women, but one Goddess._

**_“You were a fool to draw me here, Demon!_ I AM THE GATE TO HYRULE, AND YOU SHALL NOT BREAK ME DOWN!”**

_The writhing mass of smoke that filled the sky blotted out the red sun above her. Then, two red, hateful eyes opened out of the darkness and pinned her with a look of utmost hatred. It had no voice with which to speak, but its fury shook the very earth for ages to come. It roared to the heavens, which it had long sought to conquer—but for now, her mortal form would suffice._

_Zelda turned her head up to face the oncoming storm. The Calamity would swallow her whole. It would burn her mortal skin away with its Malice, like acid. It would shatter her bones and tear her limb from limb with the force of its Hatred. But it would not touch her Land. It would not touch her Golden Power. And it would not reach her Hero._

_Her heart burned with eternal Love for him. Her heart cascaded with faith in the strength of his spirit._

_And the Demon would not stand it._

**WE KNOW THE TASTE OF HIS BROKEN SPIRIT,** _it roared, all around her._ **YOUR HERO IS DEAD. HIS SPIRIT HAS FLED THIS REALM AND ABANDONED YOU, WHORE. YOU WILL YET KNOW DESPAIR!**

_As the Demon gloated and raged, Zelda stretched out her spirit and enshrouded the entirety of its existence within her own; it was not difficult, for it was not the first time they had been bound by powers greater than both of them. Though they were the antithesis of one another—Forgiveness and Resentment, Mercy and Cruelty, Charity and Malice, Love and Apathy, Hope and Despair—they had been bound by time, by fate, by the Triforce at times, and Zelda would bind them again…for however long it took her Hero to return._

**NO!** _the Demon screamed when it encountered the wall of its prison. **NO!** It rounded on her, turned inward to where she waited. **YOU!** It engulfed her in the flames of its ancient hatred. _**RELEASE ME, CUNT, OR YOU SHALL GIVE ME YOURS FOR A CENTURY!**

_She ignored its raging, as she often had. Her mortal form was truly out of its grasp, and her soul could not be blemished._

**YOU THINK YOU CANNOT BE TOUCHED?**

_The sound of Demise’s laughter, of Ganondorf’s howls of rage, of Ganon’s animalistic grunts, filled her senses. A force, equal to hundreds of tons of earth pressed in on her spirit, and the Demon fed her terrible sensations that she could not escape from, try as she might to withdraw into her endless memories of light and love._

_Hylia—Zelda—the woman screamed as her body and spirit tore under the assault. Her desperation was tinged with rage, righteous, without fear, but desperate for relief nonetheless._

_“LINK!” her mortal voice screamed. “MOTHER!”_


	45. Goddess of Love and Light.

Zelda opened her eyes into a room filled with golden light. It was not her bedroom, nor was it the room she shared with Link in Hateno. It was not even—she had to strain her mind to recall it, for her tryst with Link felt like it had happened _years_ ago—the secret rooms below her royal bedroom.

This was hardly a room; somewhere in the distance, there was a boundary, so it was not a purely open space. It was not so hollow and empty to be a cavern, not so grand to be a hall. Though she could not see four walls or doors or windows, it felt contained and comforting, safe, like a room.

In fact… She sat up to actually look around with her eyes, but she saw nothing but mist. There was a warmth in the light that filled the room, and the fog that surrounded her was gauzy and cool; as she stepped into it, her movements sent eddies spinning on either side of her and in her wake. She was fascinated, but she was also confused. Where was she? How had she come here? Certainly, it was not a dark, evil place, and she felt no danger.

Zelda waved a hand to try and dispel some of the mist, and as the clouds parted, sound washed over her. Her ears perked to listen.

_“Oh, one of youth:_   
_Goddesses guide you,_   
_Light leads you…_   
_Unite surface and sky._

_When darkness falls,_   
_May Courage guide you._   
_Love will meet you;_   
_Bring light to the land.”_

A woman’s voice floated toward Zelda from a great distance, accompanied by the sound of a harp. Zelda suddenly recalled that this song—the song Link had sung to her in the Zora Domain, the song that the Sword sang to him, forwards and backwards, whenever Zelda was near—was _not_ her lullaby. This was not her lullaby, because the moment the song ended, the singer launched into the _real_ lullaby. The lullaby her mother had sang to her when she was a girl. Zelda did not even know the words, for they were in an ancient Hylian dialect whose meaning had been lost to time. But Zelda did not need to understand the words to heed their call, and she followed the music until she reached its source.

Out of the mists of Time and Space or wherever she was, appeared a woman. She was seated at a large harp strung with light, and her nimble fingers plucked and strummed unerringly. Her head was bowed, and her long hair hung down across her breast and back like icicles, and her head and face were covered in a triangular veil, dusted with snow. Despite her lowered gaze, Zelda saw a flash vision in her mind of the woman’s keen eyes: they were as blue as aura, but colder.

Zelda stood before the Goddess Nayru and trembled.

“Farore made your soul to be beautiful, but hard and sharp. Din gave you passion that burns like the sun she set in the sky. But I gave you nothing, my daughter. You already held a wisdom of your own that would buoy you beneath the weight of the unbearable task we had for you… Yet it has taken you a _millennium_ to ask the wisest question a Creation can ask of its Creator.”

The Cold One did not look up at her as she continued to play her harp; though her words fell on Zelda’s ears like a conversation, they also rang out in a melody of their own. They soothed Zelda, but they also braced her up, encouraged her to shed her shyness.

 _“‘Why am I?’”_ The harp trilled in response. _“‘Why?’_ We Three created a vast universe, simply to create a thing called ‘love.’ And We chose you, of all Our Creations, as the perfect embodiment of it.”

Nayru smiled, but Zelda could not see the Goddess’s face. She simply _felt_ that Nayru smiled, and smiled at _her_ , and Zelda’s spirit resonated with it.

“The evil that entered Our lands was not of Our Creation. It existed long before Our endeavor, and it had long sought to create something similar to Love, but it could never quite manage it. The Demon King saw Our Love and tried to steal it for his own purposes, but you, daughter, protected it—kept it alive—spread it so far and wide in this world that Demise could never hope to steal it all.

“So he cursed Our Love, and in turn, he cursed you, so that if he could not have Our Love then perhaps no one would have it in full. Indeed…daughter…the sacred power you carry in your immortal soul has been stained by grief, and fear, and despair.”

Nayru’s gentle harp wept, and Zelda slowly sank to her knees in the mist. She felt so heavy, laden down by the weight of all Nayru had described: grief, fear, despair, agony, loss… It felt like shackles on her wrists, a millstone around her neck. She could hardly breathe through the tears that choked her throat. Though she had never spoken to the Goddess Nayru before, though she could hardly recall her own past lives, the Cold One spoke directly to her soul—a soul that was just as old as Link’s, just as ancient, if not more so.

Zelda had to brace herself on her knees with her hands, lest she fall over onto her face from the weight of her burden. Her tears began to fall freely, and where they landed in the mist they hardened into droplets of amber.

Nayru’s fingers left the harp at last, but it continued to play the lullaby ceaselessly. The Golden Goddess of Wisdom knelt beside Zelda and pulled her gently into her arms, pressed the Princess’s head into her breast. When Nayru brushed her tears away, they adopted the effervescent blue of the aura that powered the Divine Beasts, the Towers, the Slate. With Zelda’s tears dripping from Nayru’s fingers, it could have seemed that the Cold One had begun to melt.

“My sweet daughter… The Demon King was Our equal in power and rank, and it is therefore not within Our ability to break his curse. Only the subjects of the curse—Demise, his Hatred, you, and your Hero—can change its terms.”

Zelda wept into Nayru’s breast, and though the Goddess was not warm, she was comforted by her embrace. “When?” she rasped into the Goddess’s hair. “When will it be over?”

“Ah, that is a wiser question than _‘how_ ,’” Nayru noted, pleased. “Bright One, the day _shall_ come when you will see evil leave the world. The day will come when your soul _shall_ rest, and the cycle will end. But it is up to you, and the Light of Farore, to usher in that day.”

“Then why did you come to me now? I haven’t finished your trials—”

“You called.” Nayru brushed back Zelda’s hair. “A century ago, you cried for your mortal mother, and her spirit aided you as best she could in your battle with the Beast. Yet the moment repeats itself, and the wounds of your assault have reopened. Your mother asked that I intercede now that We Three have awakened from Our rest.”

 _Her mother? Where was her mother?_ She would trade the world for her mother’s embrace over that of the Cold One, kind as Nayru may have been in this encounter. She willed herself free of Nayru’s arms, and then she was standing.

Zelda’s visions blurred with another hot wave of tears. Nayru’s gaze followed them as they fell, and again they became solid amber. Quite a pile had accumulated around them now.

 _I want my mother,_ Zelda thought desperately _. I want this to be over._

At last, the Goddess of Wisdom turned her face up to the Princess, and Zelda saw those blue, blue eyes set behind a veil of snow. Nayru’s face was somehow younger than Zelda had imagined it; though Link had told her that the Golden Ones showed themselves as Sheikah Elders, Zelda would not have been able to place Nayru as Sheikah or Hylian or even Gerudo or Twili. Her features were at once distinct and generic, and even moments later Zelda could not recall the face of her patron Goddess.

“To speak with your mother’s spirit… To banish the Beast from your dreams… These are things within your power, Bright One.” Nayru responded directly to her thoughts. “You have harnessed the power of the _Triforce_ , for you already hold Wisdom, Courage, and Power in equal measure. But you have yet to awaken _your_ full power.

Nayru’s gaze was sad, though that was surely a trick of Zelda’s mind. The Golden Ones were older than sadness, than compassion, or mercy, or forgiveness.

“Finish the trials of the Champions and obtain the gift We Three have prepared for you, Most Loyal Daughter. But it is not itself what you seek. Even in Our combined might, we cannot give _that_ to you.”

The Goddess Nayru rose and touched Zelda’s heart. The harp behind her ended its song. The golden light that illuminated this dreamscape began to fade into gray dawn.

“We cannot give you the strength to bear this burden. We cannot tell you where to find it. You must… _remember_ …Goddess-Blood Princess…Daughter of the Three…White Goddess… _Hylia_.”…”

  
Zelda opened her eyes _again_ and found that the gray dawn was, in fact, the dim light of morning shining through a white sheet over her head. The weight that bore down on her was Link’s body; he had effectively fallen asleep directly on top of her, ear pressed to her sternum. A sticky spot of drool had formed under his open mouth, and though he did not snore, his breaths came deep and slow through his mouth. She knew from experience that he was a light sleeper, so perhaps she had not been so restless in her sleep, despite her terrors.

They were both still naked, and the peculiar smell of sweat and arousal had turned stale. She desperately wished for a bath—but his warm body, pressed in for inch against her, was too wonderful a feeling to give up.

Zelda wriggled closer so that his head was tucked directly under her chin, and she wrapped him in a bear hug. He woke and responded immediately by pressing a kiss to her throat, then mumbled something into her hair and seemed to fall back asleep. That was perfectly fine by her. She was busy examining the Triforce that still shone, faintly, over the back of her hand.

She could feel that power within her now, coursing through her in time with the beat of her heart. It flowed out from her center, to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her hair, in the same way that it flowed out of her and into the tangible forms of the Helms of Naboris and Ruta she had crafted. Zelda did not know what to do with this sudden access, however. Could she seal Ganon in her dreams? Would that help her? What could she summon with this to prove her Divine right to rule? Fireworks? Could she turn water into wine or lead into gold with it?

A dark thought crossed her mind, then. There would be some people who would never be convinced, even with shows of power greater than anything she could imagine.

 _That is what the journey is for,_ she reminded herself. _I will win over their hearts if I cannot convince their eyes._

Zelda felt that it was still quite early in the morning, but she imagined that if she were to bathe and groom herself and prepare for the audience she had requested, she should get moving. Particularly considering how _slow_ she wanted to move.

It wasn’t just that she was sore. It was also how comfortable she was with Link’s full, dead weight on top of her. She was completely cocooned in him, and there was no other place she wanted to be. Steeped in his warmth and his smell and the knowledge of his love, the pain in her heart began to ease. As fraught as their first time had been, it had also confirmed that her desire to be one with him, body and soul, was attainable. And she wanted more.

But she also wanted answers.

Zelda gently rolled her Hero off of her and pulled back the covers enough to slip out of bed. Link looked up at her with bleary eyes as she stood and went to fetch a towel from an enchanted chest next to the bed.

“Good morning,” she told him with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm, nah. No.” Link sat up slowly, and as his face passed through a beam of weak sunlight, she saw the deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. There was a gleam in them, too, that told her he was entirely awake and had his own designs. His jaw was set obstinately, as though she had done him wrong. “I ask the questions. Are you alright?”

Zelda bit her lip and clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m better now,” she assured him. “Don’t wo—”

“What’s happening?” Link asked, with a note of deep anguish in his voice. “I just want to know how to help you.”

Zelda was not so used to being interrupted, especially not by her knight. She wrung her hands anxiously as he caught her gaze with his and would not release it. It was then that she knew that she was not the only one who had been hurt that night. She felt nauseated by the knowledge; she had tried so hard to keep her pain inside, to enjoy her first time with him, to let _him_ enjoy it, and she had failed in each of those endeavors.

Zelda suddenly found it hard to speak. Link was silent and still as he awaited her answer; his lean, scarred torso and wiry-muscled arms, and the hard gleam in his eyes, made him look like a predator watching his prey quiver before him. She did not particularly like that look, not when she was so bare before him.

She began to pace.

“This whole journey has been about remembering our past lives together, and learning to access the full power of the Triforce. But as I’ve come to grapple with, I have not always been in your life as the mortal Zelda. I _am_ the Goddess Hylia. The Goddess who loves her Hero.” Zelda took a deep, shuddering breath and released it quickly. “Ganon is the _antithesis_ of love, Link. He hates it. He would corrupt it if he could, and he tried. He was not only trying to defile my holy form and force me to release him from his captivity. I see now that he was cleverly laying a trap for me, for us, that would spring even long after his defeat.”

She could not look at Link as she prepared to describe what she meant; it would remind Link that he hadn’t been there to protect her, and that he had fallen and failed. Worse than that, Zelda feared that it would make Link afraid to touch her ever again, either for fear that she would break, or out of disgust. She wasn’t sure which would break her heart more.

“Though I was _his_ jailer, he held _me_ captive—and tortured me, endlessly, over that century. He could not harm my mortal form, but he created terrible illusions that he had. I felt every minute of it.” She did not have the courage to put those illusions, that torture, into words after all. The name of the assault would not pass the cage of her teeth. “When Ciera described what had happened, I began to remember this… And then to actually perform the act myself...I could not stop remembering.”

Zelda glanced at Link out of the corner of her eye and saw a war of conflicting emotions play out across his face. For a split second, every inch of him was tense: his shoulders were hunched, his fists were clenched in the sheets, his jaw was white with the force of his anger. Then, the fury gave way to grief and blame, just as she had feared.

He wilted, but she could not bring herself to go to him, to touch him.

“I need you to know, you _are_ helping,” she said, eyes now on her toes. “I feel safe in your arms. I have faith that you will protect me from any harm. But…I have come to accept—and now I need you to know this, too—that to remember being Hylia means that I must remember battling the Calamity, and falling to Demise, among many other terrible, dark things that happened to me in her form. But it also means that I will remember the full, vast extent of my love for you.”

Link’s voice was torn with grief. “I don’t _want_ you to remember that, if it hurts you. Zelda, I don’t want to touch you if it brings you pain. I don’t—”

“Link.”

The curt, queenly tone stopped him in his tracks. Perhaps he did not recall his upbringing fully, but Zelda knew how strictly his obedience had been beaten into him, and she was filled with grim satisfaction to see that he instinctively responded to her Royal command.

Zelda approached the edge of the bed and sat beside him. She raised her glowing hand to cup his cheek and forced him to look at her again.

“You remembered, and endured, many terrible things to remember me. I’m not saying I’m trying to remember this _because_ I owe you, though I certainly want to do this partly for you.” She searched his gaze for acknowledgment but found nothing there but reticence. She decided to change tactics. “I know you understand what this is like, Link. And just like you chose to continue on your painful path to remembering who you are, I’m choosing that path for myself. My patron came to me last night in a dream, and she told me that even if I may wield the Triforce, I have not awakened my full power as the Goddess. And I want to do that for myself. As much pain as Hylia, as I, have gone through… I have always triumphed. The difficulty is now, as I _remember_ these heavy, traumatic things, to keep in mind that I have survived through them all already. And you can help me with that, certainly.”

Link covered her hand with his own and closed his eyes. The deep circles beneath his eyes were even starker in the light that shone from her hand. “I was afraid I’d done something,” he mumbled. “I felt so selfish for enjoying myself when you were clearly in so much pain.”

Zelda bent forward and rested her forehead on his chest. “It wasn’t you,” she assured him, “and I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I was honestly so afraid that I ruined it for the both of us. But…Link. It wasn’t entirely ruined for me, either. And it bought me an audience with the Goddess Nayru.”

“I don’t think that’s worth the price of admission,” Link muttered. “But you’ve wanted to see her for so long. How was it?”

“I was so tired and angry, and she did not have the answers I wanted in the moment, but now that I am awake and reflecting upon it, I have so much hope.” Zelda smiled against Link’s chest. “She played my lullaby on a harp… She said many really nice things to me.”

“I should hope so. You’ve done nothing to deserve how they’ve treated us.” Link began to undo her messy braid. Though it seemed that Zelda had assuaged at least some of his fears, his nervous energy still needed an outlet. “What did she say?”

“She told me why the Golden Ones created this world. Before their act of creation, it seems like there was no place where love existed. Nayru said that Demise had tried to make a thing _like_ love, but only Nayru, Farore, and Din together achieved it. And…she said that she chose me, chose Hylia, to be a Goddess in service of them, because I embodied their idea of love so perfectly.” She looked up at Link and allowed a giddy smile to cross her face. “It makes so much _sense_ now. Forget the curse, what is it that has _actually_ tied our souls together through Time, Hero?”

He bent to kiss her in response. It was slow and gentle and sweet, and she loved it. She loved him.

“Exactly,” she said when they broke apart once more. “But think about it! Love takes so many beautiful forms… I always thought my mother held some power within her, for my dearest memories of her were of her glowing so beautifully as she sang me to sleep as a child… It must have been fueled by her love for me.”

“And it’s the one thing that the Yiga, and Ganon, don’t understand and can never obtain.”

Zelda recalled Link’s angry words in the wake of learning of Ciera’s treatment at the hands of Ka’loh and the clan. _Power without Courage is cowardice. That is why they do not know love._ No wonder…

Zelda wrapped her arms around Link’s back and settled closer in his lap. “Nayru said that the nature of the curse is something that they cannot break. Only you, and I, and Ganon himself, could change its terms. Two-on-one seems good odds to me.”


	46. An Audience with the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all horndogs happy now?!

Link and Zelda cuddled a little more before she finally insisted that they bathe. She led him behind the folding changing screen and into the third chamber, which contained a spring. They brought an open Guardian shield for light, for the dawn did not reach this far into the secret rooms, and the cavern was otherwise completely empty.

Zelda lay towels out at the edge of the water, then turned to Link to take his hand. Immediately, she quirked an eyebrow at him, for she had certainly caught him staring at her derriere as she bent over. Then, her eyes wandered lower. Even in the dim lighting, she could make out signs of his renewed arousal.

Heat blossomed in Zelda’s cheeks, but she kept her eyes on him as she slowly backed into the water of the spring.

A wave of blissful relief washed over her as the warm waters immediately eased her aches and pains. She closed her eyes for a moment to relish the feeling as the water came up to her hips, then her chest. When she opened her eyes, she was startled to find that he had silently closed the distance between them. He stepped into the water and waded toward her, and she nearly went limp from ecstasy as he pulled her roughly by the hips closer to him.

Zelda stood on her tip toes to crush her lips to his, and she groaned with pleasure as he immediately pushed his way into her mouth. She hardly noticed that their teeth bumped together from how deeply he kissed her, because in the same moment, he had slid his hands under her bum and lifted her. She hooked her ankles behind him and—well, they were in nearly perfect alignment already.

Link stepped forward until they were nearly braced against the wall of the pool. Neither of them were particularly tall; the water was already up to her armpits, and her long hair clung to her shoulders and arms and chest so that every move felt like she were moving through a tangled web. She had to fight her hand free of the net so that she could reach between them and position him at her entrance.

Link sucked on her lower lip as he slowly pulled away from the kiss. He continued to support her in the water with one hand, but the other followed the curve of her hip up the small of her back. It came to rest between her shoulders as he leveled a burning stare at her.

“Don’t be a hero,” he said hotly. “Tell me if you need to stop.”

“Oh, I plan on telling you what I need,” she retorted, and she grinned at the immediate response she received from his cock in her hand. She did not know where this sudden, wicked, wanton attitude had come from—but that was a lie. This temptress had been inside her for years, in fantasies she had hardly dared to allow into her dreams with her knight just on the other side of her bedroom door. And now she knew that she could command him, with the right tone, the right look. That knowledge, that power, gave her adolescent fantasies a new life.

“Firstly, I need you to _not_ treat me like a porcelain doll. I won’t break if you bite me, Link.”

Link’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and she thought he would faint. Then, he raised his other arm to hook behind her back as well, and he pulled her down onto him.

Zelda’s back arched as they came together. She wondered momentarily how long it would take for that first entry not to feel so uncomfortable. The initial twinge of pain was so triggering, but perhaps if she could just ride it out—

Her back hit the wall, and she opened her eyes to meet Link’s. Instead, she found that Link had also tensed and his eyes were still closed; his breath came in sharp, uneven bursts through his nose as he also adjusted to the feeling.

“Hm-mm, bite you, Zelda?” he murmured. He opened his blue, blue eyes at last. A wicked smirk flickered across his lips. “Is _that_ what you remembered?” He pushed her chin up with his nose, then ghosted his teeth across the taught cord in her neck where her pulse throbbed in anticipation.

With a grip on his shoulders, and the wall behind her for some support, Zelda canted her hips and sank even lower on Link’s warm, erect cock. Now, fully awake, fully lucid, she could appreciate how deeply he could fill her. She threw her head back in ecstasy, and she groaned again when he immediately attacked her neck with nips of his teeth and long, searing kisses.

“Ngh, yes,” she said to the ceiling in a rasp that came from somewhere deep in her chest. “Now, Hero, I need you to _move_.”

He exhaled heavily against her throat and obeyed her request immediately. Each thrust was slow, purposeful, and stoked the fire that had been rekindled in her belly. He was electric, and it coursed through the nerves in her thighs and in her hips with every _push_ and _pull_.

Link lowered his head to her breasts and took one into his mouth just as he began to quicken the pace. Her hands flew to his hair and she hummed in response to every sensation. It was difficult to speak, but she was a woman of words, so she tried to find them between stuttering breaths. “You feel s-so—” But her sentence was interrupted by another ragged sigh. His teeth had found her nipple, and as goosebumps erupted across her arms and chest, her muscles clenched and introduced a new, glorious friction inside of her. She fisted her hands in his long, thick mane of golden hair and dragged his head back up to hers to kiss him soundly.

Their tempo had increased, and the clammy stone wall dug into her shoulders now as Link drove into her again and again. He placed one hand beside her head, elbow locked to support himself as he fucked her, faster, deeper, as she requested between kisses and moans. When he ducked to brace even his forehead against her chest, she knew he was close.

Her fingers scraped at his scalp. “I’m almost there,” she whispered hoarsely. “Link, please, I-I…I want to finish with you.”

Still with one hand braced beside her head, he dipped the other between her legs. It felt as though some of his fingers hooked inside of her, but she also felt a quick, frantic flick on her sensitive clitoris, and she felt the heavy weight of the heel of his palm on her skin as well. She could not bring herself to look down, however. All of her muscles were beyond her control.

Zelda shrieked giddily as a particularly deep thrust hit something both tender and wanton inside her, and then she immediately realized her mistake as his movements faltered. “Keep going,” she begged. “Fast, like that—oh, _oh_ — _hnghhh_ —”

She buried her head in his shoulder to ride out the waves of white fire that spread outward from her loins such that her toes curled. Link’s mouth was on her breast again, tongue lavishing praise upon her peaked nipple. There was tight suction on her skin he had taken between his teeth, and for a second it felt like her heart was gonna fly out of his chest to be inside that wicked mouth of his, and then she froze, rigid, pushing down, stretching her toes to be closer to him, to get him deeper, as her orgasm electrified her.

Link cursed desperately against her skin as his pace became frantic, violent, deliciously painful as he chased his own bliss. She shrieked again, but this time stifled it in his shoulder as he repeatedly hit that blessed spot that made every muscle in her body respond. His arms caged her, squeezed her close—and at last, his hips met hers forcefully, and his cum filled her once more. The sound that left him was as close to a cry as she had heard from him, and she cherished it.

Her thighs twitched with ever pulse of his orgasm, and it took her utmost concentration and willpower to reach for his chin and tilt it up so she could kiss him. But once she had him there, he was as enthusiastic as he had ever been, consumed with passion and ardor for his princess, his queen.

“Fuck, Zelda,” he groaned into her mouth, “where did that come from?”

She nearly bit his tongue off as she laughed. She was euphoric, light, _triumphant_.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said urgently. She pushed back his wet fringe, caressed his sharp cheekbones, ran a thumb over his lips. She felt a surge of heat in his cheeks, under her fingers. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Are you reading my mind again?”

“No,” she said, smiling at him cheekily, “I think you’re reading mine.”

Eventually they managed to bathe in earnest, dried themselves, and began to dress. With her hair pulled back into a damp bun, Zelda fetched the satchel that contained the crown and the garments she had inherited from her mother. There was the queenly gown with a blue jacket and white girdle, each embroidered in gold, but she was claiming to be more than a queen.

Zelda laid out the vestments of the High Priestess of Hyrule. There were only a few layers, each of light fabric that flowed across her skin like satin. Her only gripe was that she could not wear the tight camisole she usually wore to support her breasts, but she hoped that the layers would hide any bounce in her step—and once she reached the dining hall, she would be sitting or standing only, which would be forgiving as well.

The slip of the dress was a loose white gown that hooked on to a golden torc choker; the slip did not clasp in the back and instead left her shoulders and spine exposed down to the small of her back. It was hemmed with embroidery and pearls, and the front of the slip was cut asymmetrically to reveal her legs from the calves down. It trailed behind her like a pool of moonlight.

Then it was time to don the golden cuffs of the priestess, and the ornate gold chainwork that adorned her chest and shoulders in a fashion similar to the spauldrons of her golden armor—but functionally useless, considering it was merely a net of gold and pearls. She then cinched the slip with her sword belt so that it offered a more womanly shape, and atop the slip, Zelda wore a long stole of of creamy gold fabric. It did not rest behind her neck like a priest’s but rather hung low on her back and across her shoulders.

Lastly, she wore a rich cope of Hylian blue, the two sides of which were connected by a golden chain that lay across her chest, fastened on either side by Hylia’s golden crest. The cope was embroidered fantastically in gold, and across the hem it told the tale of the Hero of the Sky and the First Queen Zelda. At the center of the back was Hylia’s crest again, such that the loftwing’s wings could have been Zelda’s own, sprouting from her shoulders.

She brushed out her hair with her fingers and gathered two plaits in front of either ear, which she wrapped with blue ribbons in the traditional Hylian style. Then, Link held the golden crown out for her, and she bowed her head to allow him to affix it atop her hair. Once it was secured, she straightened up once more and loosened her bun to let her damp hair fall down over the loftwing on her back.

“What are you thinking, my knight?” she asked lightly, but her smile faded into surprise, for Link had dropped reverently to one knee before her, a hand covering his heart. “Link?”

He seemed to hold his breath while he looked up at her. His eyes, as blue as aura and as deep and mysterious as the seas, were filled with the same adoration she had recalled atop Mount Lanaryu.

“You’re a Goddess,” he said at last. “No one could doubt it.”

She stepped forward to cup his face in both her hands. The Triforce was still there, glimmering, shining, warm.

“I pray to the Three that you’re right,” she replied, and she bent to kiss him once. “Let’s see, shall we?”

 

It was still quite early in the morning when at last they stepped onto the main road around the castle—but it was already quite warm. The air was filled with the sound of birds and cicadas singing the praise of a summer’s day, but otherwise there were no sounds of activity coming from the ruins of castle town or even around the castle itself.

With every step they took toward the dining hall, Zelda’s pulse quickened with anxiety. She kept her hands clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white with strain but, hopefully, not visibly shaking.

At last, they stood before the closed doors at the head of the hall. Inside, she could hear a murmur of voices, some muted laughter. She hoped she had not kept them waiting long.

Link wore a similar outfit as the previous day: his white Ancient bodysuit and stonework greaves and boots, a chain mail shirt, the Champion’s tunic. Today, however, he had added the diamond circlet. He held the Slate for her on his belt, and he had clipped the Master Sword to his side rather than his back—for he had also equipped the Hylian Shield, and he would not have either the Sword nor the shield hidden. He understood that he needed to look the part of the Hero…and partner to the Goddess incarnate.

Zelda reached for his hand and squeezed it just for a moment. “You look like a prince,” she said softly. “No one could doubt it.”

His ears twitched and reddened, and he dropped her hand so that he could push open the door for her.

A hush fell over the room. Sunlight poured in behind them as they entered, and someone in the back gasped softly in awe. Zelda tried not to think about it as she approached the throne at the front of the room, tried not to look at the assembled crowd at all. She was aware of an awkward wave of movement as some people fell into genuflects, some people stood, and some tried to figure out what they were supposed to do.

Granté approached the throne as well, eyes alight with curiosity and appreciation. He was dressed in a fine brocade doublet whose sleeves were cut to show the white tunic beneath it; he had slung his sword belt across his chest, as Link often did, and for the first time Zelda noticed that the buckle was an emblem of the Eye of Truth.

He bowed to her, then turned to present her to the crowd.

“Your Royal Highness, my friends are gathered here to welcome you, formally, back to your home. Friends, I am happy to introduce you to the savior of Hyrule and her Champion.”

“Thank you, Granté,” she said. She leveled her eyes to the crowd and found it as diverse as she had ever seen. There were of course Sheikah in the audience, though they were few in number. A few Zora were scattered among the crowd, adorned with silver and luminous stones as well as Gerudo women dressed in their finest silks and gold. There were even Rito—some armed with bows, others with chisels on their belts. It was clear, from how they dressed and how they looked at her, that they had come to witness a legend.

But the long-eared Hylians, miscellaneous Hyrulian humans, and even some men and women she might guess were from Lurelin, seemed less prepared for what they saw. Perhaps they did not own much finery, or perhaps in stubborn country tradition they could not be bothered to dress up for someone they were not sure was the real deal. There was no open skepticism in their faces, as she had seen in Hateno, but she steeled herself for a similar response regardless.

“I will speak plainly,” the young woman began. “My name is Zelda. I am the last Princess of Hyrule. I spent a century locked in a spiritual battle with the demon called the Calamity, or Ganon, while I waited for the resurrection of my fallen knight and Champion: Link.”

She gestured to him, then extended the same hand and focused the flow of her power down to her fingertips. The Triforce on the back of her hand burned with holy light, and an even larger symbol appeared in the air in front of her palm. She looked past the sun-bright Triforce and at the illuminated faces of her people.

“I am not only a princess with the blood of the Goddess Hylia in my veins. I _am_ the Goddess-Made-Flesh, and Link _is_ my Chosen Hero, reincarnated again as we have so many times before, to save Hyrule from complete destruction, and now—as I stand before you—to restore it.”

The jagged golden crown she wore was weighted such that she had to keep her chin up to maintain its placement on her head. She scanned her gaze across the room, made eye contact with nearly every individual and gauged their response. She was so, so glad to have been blessed with access to this power, as superficial as it might be, for it seemed to be helping.

“I haven’t come here to be called ‘Your Majesty’ and give out orders,” Zelda continued. “I am the rightful Queen of Hyrule, but in making that claim, I am bound to a promise: to dedicate my life to bringing peace, safety, and prosperity to my people and my lands. I’m aware that fine language and flowery speeches do not carry the weight they once did, so Link and I are on a journey across Hyrule to understand the needs of each settlement. To help as many people as we can. To nourish the life that has sprung up in the ruins of my kingdom.”

Zelda took a deep breath and released it very, very slowly, so as to make it imperceptible. It was so much easier to disguise her fears when she was in the Sanctum, for her audiences were kept at a much greater distance than this. Here, in the dining hall, she could see the whites of the eyes of the men and women in the very back of the room.

“In our travels, we have met with many of the long-lived Zora who may attest to our identities. But we have also met many others—Gerudo, Sheikah, Hylians among them—who can attest to our _intentions_. We will remain here a few days to understand how we can help rebuild and repurpose Castle Town, what use the castle itself may serve in the meantime, and how we can facilitate the growth of new settlements in Central Hyrule. Then, we will set off for Akkala, where another new settlement called Tarrey Town is thriving, to see what lessons we can learn from them.

"While we are here, however, I would like to come to know you all. Whether you believe I am who I say I am or not, I want to convince each and every one of you that my intentions are pure.”

Zelda clasped her hands in front of her again. Light dripped like water from her fingers. For one long, breathless moment, the room was silent. Then, Granté stepped closer once more.

“Each of you in this room came here because you wanted to play a role in rebuilding the settlements of Central Hyrule—ultimately, for the purposes of farming, and trading, and making your homes here.” Granté wore his characteristic lopsided smile, but somehow there was more of an edge to it. He was not speaking generally; rather, he knew why _each_ of them had come, and he had them pinned. “Each of you has a vision for how that will happen. As Zelda said, whatever you believe about her, or the monarchy in general… Doesn’t matter. Just know that she’s come to help coordinate all of your visions and to bring them to life.” Granté shrugged. “If you want to know where I stand, I believe in Link and Zelda entirely. But I think,” he said, turning to his friends at the front of the room, “that now is the time for everyone to form their own opinions.”

“Like I said, I would like to meet each of you. Please, don’t hesitate.”

A slow murmur rippled through the crowd, and the movement followed—but it seemed that it might take a moment for someone to dare to approach her.

In the meantime, for the first time in her life, Zelda took a seat in her father’s throne. Link placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him standing beside her. He gave her a short nod, and there was a small, encouraging smile on his face. Then, he stepped from his place by her side, and began speaking with Granté and a very starstruck Gerudo warrior in placid, conversational tones.

She had been afraid to find him stoic, her stone-faced, mute Champion, a statue at her side. Instead, she found that he had already stepped into a new role. He was her partner. Her equal.

The future King of Hyrule.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**For the first time, I'd like to share some art in a fic.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leeeeeeeeeeet me know what you think.
> 
> And hello to all you new readers!


	47. Grand Plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been more than 600 new hits since I posted the last chapter, and that's really exciting but also really terrifying! Thank you for following this series.
> 
> If you would like to follow some extra things, I'll be posting art and caps from my run of BOTW (outfits, scenery, secrets) on the whenthewindwhispers Tumblr.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the chapter. Next one's coming up quick!

Zelda spent most of the day listening. People told her of the homes they had left behind—some recently, when they heard that the Calamity had broken free of the castle and vanished, others long ago, when they were young adventurers or artisans. They spoke of grandparents, great grandparents, who had passed down stories of the Age of Burning Fields. Some of them were descended from knights and soldiers, some from courtiers. Others had no idea where their family came from, their parents and grandparents having been orphaned by the events of the Calamity.

Throughout the day, people left to perform their duties, then returned to speak with her and Link. Her knight was just as popular as she was, though the conversations he engaged in were less one-sided than her own. She caught snatches of some of them floating toward her: one conversation was about the Great Faeries and their ability to infuse armor with magic; another was about horses; another, about someone named Kilton. Occasionally, she heard her name, and she would look up and smile and find Link gesturing to her with a smile of his own.

Zelda found herself alone in the midst of an afternoon lull, and she stood from her throne and stretched. She had dispensed of her cope earlier, for with the sun directly upon her it was terribly hot. But now, the sun was not directly over head, and the dining hall was beginning to cool down once again now that it was in shadow. She approached Link, where he stood speaking to a Hylian man and Granté. Several weapons and shields were laid out on the floor between them, Zelda recognized a set of royal arms, the black claymore and bow of a Royal Guardsman, and, in fact, the Master Sword.

Zelda reached for his hand, lifted it, and plopped his arm down over her shoulders for warmth, and she wrapped her own around his waist. The Hylian’s eyes widened at the casual display of familiarity, but Zelda ignored it. “Pardon me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“This is Hayton, a blacksmith.” Link gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve been talking about how to give the deadly strength of black steel some more durability with some traditional Sheikah forging.”

“Oh, I imagine this is the best company you could have found for such a task,” Zelda remarked. “Pleasure to meet you, Hayton. I actually have a request for you.”

Link gave her a little more wiggle room beneath his arm as she contorted and unclipped her sword from her side. She held it out, sheathed, in two hands. “This is a sword that has been at my side in many of my lives. At some point, it was altered. I would like it to be restored to its original form.”

Hayton reverently accepted the blade and began examining it. He pored over the details of the sheath and the hilt, then withdrew the blade to examine its edge and the runes etched into it. He balanced it carefully in the palm of one hand, then clasped it again by the hilt and nodded at the pommel. “It’s the crossguard, isn’t it?”

“Indeed! Will you be able to remove it?”

“Aye. I am honored to work with such a fine tool,” Hayton said. “Lady Zelda, all smiths and weapons connoisseurs have heard of your legendary armory. Might I ask what remains of it?”

Granté raised an eyebrow. “Actually, Zelda, that’s a good question. Do you know exactly what Impa has been keeping for you?”

Zelda shook her head slowly to avoid jostling her crown. “I believe the sword may be only the first of many relics. Link, we should stop by with the horses on our way to Akkala.”

“Or I could go ask her for you tonight,” Granté said.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love that. We could resume our sparring, Link, perhaps with new weapons.” She turned back to the blacksmith, who now held her golden sword close to his chest. “Hayton, as soon as Granté returns, we’ll send for you and you can join us in taking stock of my arms.”

Hayton bowed. “Thank you, Lady Zelda. It would truly be a _dream_. I’ll go get to work on this right away, and it should be done by morning. Thank you.” He bowed once more, then hurried out of the dining hall.

Link stroked the bare skin of her arm as she leaned into his side again, head on his chest. “It seems like it went much better than in Hateno,” he told her.

“Link told me some of what happened,” Granté said, and he began to clear up the weapons he’d scattered across the floor. “The people of East Necluda are a stubborn and insular lot. They think that’s why they survived the Calamity unscathed.” He rolled his eyes. “Once they hear that you’re getting your rice from somewhere else, they’ll come running to your feet, begging for you to forgive them.”

Zelda was not really comforted by that, but she was at least in agreement that her formal introduction had gone quite well. Under her ear, she heard the low grumble of Link’s stomach—and realized that she, too, had not eaten yet that day.

“Boys, I would like to spend some time with those scrolls, perhaps over an early dinner?” She looked between Link and Granté, and she grinned as their eyes lit up at the thought of food. “Do we have a chef among the volunteers?”

“I’ll do it,” Link said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us in our reading, my fellow scholar?” She nudged him. “We certainly could use another pair of eyes.”

Link looked apologetic as he slipped away from her and picked up the Master Sword from the floor.. “I don’t really like standing around talking all day,” he admitted quietly. “I would like to cook, Zelda. I trust you, and Granté, to handle any ambush—but if you don’t want me to leave, I won’t.”

“Oh, go ahead!” She shooed him off with one hand and reached for Granté’s elbow with the other. “You’re right, us bookworms have more than enough sharp edges to handle ourselves. I do expect a pre-dinner snack right quick, though.”

Link seemed quite relieved, and he leaned in to kiss her chastely on the cheek. When he turned and left in search of food, there was a noticeable spring in his step. Zelda and Grante followed, but by the time they had left the dining hall, Link had run quite a distance already. He stopped abruptly as Zelda watched, and she saw him summon Revali’s Gale to lift him high above the spire of her tower. Her eyes followed her knight as he glided out of view into the afternoon sky.

“Where did you find this, High Priestess?” Granté plucked lightly at the edge of the golden stole that peeked out from beneath the collar of her magnificent cope. “Not from Impa?”

“I happen to know of your treasure-seeking ways. I’m not going to tell you all of my secret passages and hidden rooms,” she replied lightly. “You’re correct, though. This was my mother’s when she took on the role of High Priestess from her sister.”

“Speaking of religion, I think that might be the hardest sell,” Granté mused. “Most of the traces left of religion in Hyrule are centered around the worship of _Hylia_ , not the Three. You’re not just claiming to be a goddess, but the very entity and power that people worship. People have their own ideas of what Hylia is like, their own relationships with her and her deeds.”

Zelda sighed softly. “And I was one of them, don’t forget. I believe that what you speak of may be what really motivated the Golden Ones to awaken once more—if only in part. Though they may not have actively intervened in the events of Hyrule’s past, their blessings were quite active in their slumber. We were the ones who mis-attributed them, and my continued amnesia has prevented me from correcting that until now… Yes, I think that more than rebuilding the knighthood, rebuilding the _priesthood_ will take the longest.” Her eyes strayed over her shoulder, where the cathedral had once dominated the horizon. Oh, she had hated it for so long, for its clerics had made it their duty to point out every shortcoming of hers that might have earned Hylia’s scorn. “But maybe, Granté, the popular beliefs might serve us twofold. Knights of honor, worshipers of Hylia, should aspire to follow her in the worship of the Three, shouldn’t they? In my name and in the names of the Three, they would protect Hyrule and espouse a code of honor that favors the balance of the Three Powers, just as I must carry the Three in equal balance to protect the Triforce. Yes… What do you think, Granté? A holy order of paladins?”

Granté clicked his tongue thoughtfully. With his free hand, he pushed back his hair, and Zelda could see his eyes wandering the horizon as though he were recalling a document and reading it from memory. When he spoke, he spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “Link mentioned that he had sent someone to gather good, honorable men to serve as your knights. If we can work on a rigid, written code of honor and outline the expectations of that role, and have it ready when they get here… I think it should appeal to _someone_. Maybe not all of them will become paladins, but some will, and then at least you will have set a precedent for it.” He patted her arm. “Have you considered opening this order to the other races of Hyrule? The Zora worship the Three, as do some pious Rito. I’ve spent some time in Faron, and the people there have a deep ancestral connection to Farore as well as to Hylia.”

“It was the Zora’s distaste for land-lovers that kept them out of the ranks of our knights,” Zelda pointed out. “There was never a law against half-Gerudo men or men from the tropics joining the knighthood—they just so rarely ventured north to do so.”

“Perhaps that should be made clear. I think the popular imagination is that they all looked like our Hero.”

Zelda couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. “I wish!” she spluttered, to Granté’s great amusement. She refused to elaborate when asked, and their arrival at the library served as a good enough distraction from that line of questioning.

The library was empty, which was a blessing, for Zelda found no modest way of climbing over the wall and into the upper balcony—not in _this_ dress. She was essentially naked beneath the half-cape she wore, which, if it weren’t a sacrilege to defile such a historical garment, might provide some interesting encounters with Link later… _Not now,_ she thought to herself as she landed lightly on the marble and waited for Granté to join her. With his Sheikah training and reflexes, he scaled the wall and jumped down with grace that may have rivaled even Link’s.

Half an hour went by before Link reappeared laden with skewers of roasted vegetables slathered in butter. He found Zelda lying on her back on a table, surrounded by scrolls, holding one up above her head to read. She could have been an offering on an altar for how she was arranged. Granté worked at the chalk board, and it was clear that they had been tossing out various facts and pieces of history and trying to find connections where, perhaps, there were none. It read like the ramblings of a madman, and Link could only raise his eyebrows and shake his head at it as he delivered the food.

Link had half-expected Zelda to be so caught up in her reading as to not even look at him, and he would not have been offended if that were the case. In fact, he might have found it endearing. But he was quite warmed by the smile she offered him when he approached, and she set down her scroll to accept the skewer in one hand while reaching for him with the other. She had placed the cope backward over her like a blanket to preserve her modesty in such a casual position, but as she raised her arm, Link caught a glimpse of her breast exposed beneath the fabric.

He slid his gaze back up to her face and tried to quell the heat that had rushed to his own. “What are you looking for now?” he asked.

“I’m mostly just sorting these into categories,” she said with a sigh. “There is wisdom to be gained from the traditions of Hyrule’s warriors. There are the religious teachings and morality tales recorded by our ancestors. There are records of what are doubtless beautiful hymns and powerful chanted spells that might help restore the magic in Hyrule once more… And of course, the things we spoke about with Granté yesterday. All in separate piles, and I must memorize it all for it to be useful.”

“Well, save some room, scroll-eater. I have some salmon munierre coming up.”

Zelda’s eyes lit up. “Would you mind training the royal chefs as well as the knights? I might even think it would be more of a priority.” She began to laugh; it was a bright sound that brought a smile to his face, and brought Granté’s eyes over to her with a smile as well. She did not notice the attention and took another bite of her skewer. With the hand that sparkled with the Triforce, she picked up the scroll and returned to her reading.

Link delivered a skewer for Granté and went back to cooking. The late afternoon atmosphere felt as smooth and fragile as glass. The sound of cicadas and birds faded into a low hum around him, and he did not hum to himself as he prepared the salmon filets. A strange feeling had overcome him since speaking to the people who had come to see Zelda’s return…a feeling he at first could not place, but now he remembered.

When he had first thrown off the shackles of Despair and let the full strength and knowledge of being the Hero fill him, he had felt too big for his skin, too many distinct people trying to be one and the same. Here, he felt the echoes of the past all around and inside him. He felt adrift in time.

He understood that Zelda found comfort in the places tied to her most recent life. The castle was her home for seventeen years, after all. But Link remembered little of it, and the knowledge that he had forgotten so much only made him less inclined to feel attached to this place. He wanted to forge new paths. He wanted to wander. He wanted to explore. Nothing could cure his restlessness but for the free wind of Hyrule’s fields, the cold bite of Tabantha, the kiss of the sun in the desert and the feeling of mountains moving beneath him. He could not wait to leave the castle and have a horse under him again.

He had perhaps not completely internalized Dorephan’s explanation of Zelda’s need for a partner in rule, but as he had watched her, dressed in finery and gilded in Divine light, it had suddenly become very real and very immediate. She had not said as much aloud, but the reality had presented itself at last: he had followed her down a path that would require him to preside as her king. Some day, the castle would be rebuilt, and that would be where they remained. They would accept audiences, of course, but they would not venture out from its walls. They would send messengers on their behalf to the far corners of Hyrule and send envoys in their stead…

Perhaps it would not be so terrible. They might have children to make their lives exciting. They would surround themselves with friends, and there would be plenty of fires to put out, distractions, as king…

Link stared into the fire beneath his cooking pot as he counted down the minutes he had before it was time to flip the salmon again. He reached for Fi’s hilt on his hip. Nothing made him feel quite as solid, as mortal, as singular, as holding the blade. No one but the Goddess—not even Zelda since she had returned to the physical plane—had managed to give him that feeling.

 _Master_ , Fi said, _from what I have gathered from your exploration of the castle, it may be years before this structure is inhabitable. It will certainly be an age before it may operate as a center of government. The princess has spoken truly: it will be her hand that defends Hyrule. It will be her feet that retread the old roads. It will be her lips that speak to her people, without proxy._

“Thank you, Fi,” he murmured. It certainly had been something he needed to hear, but the fact that he had been so dissatisfied at the thought of being king depressed him, for he knew that Zelda desired a functioning government and all the trappings of her old life restored.

  
They ate dinner in the library, and Zelda and Granté caught Link up to speed on the most relevant and impressive findings of the afternoon. When Zelda began to yawn, Granté excused himself to go do his evening rounds and take the temperature of people after that morning’s audience. They agreed to meet in Castle Town the next day, to discuss, as she had said, how it might be rebuilt to provide new services for Hyrule.

Link and Zelda left the library, but they did not immediately return to their private chambers. Instead, Zelda’s eyes remained focused on the moon, and her steps led them upward. They picked their way across cracked and ruined stones and up makeshift ladders until they stood in the ruined sanctum once more. They stared down at the pit where Link and the Calamity had fallen and where the Divine Beast’s powerful weaponized aura had greatly wounded the Demon.

Zelda closed her eyes for a moment, hands clasped beneath her chin as though in prayer.

When she opened her eyes, they burned with the golden light of the Goddess.


	48. Queen of the Wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a WIP of Link's outfit from these last few chapters on the whenthewindwhispers tumblr if you would like to see it. :)
> 
> Thank you for the comments and feedback! Of course, please keep R&Ring~

Link and Zelda did not look upon the ruined throne room of their present. There was no pit, no scorched stone. There was rich, scarlet carpeting and intricate stonework beneath their feet, and the sacred geometry of the Golden Ones was carved into the floor before them. Two thrones were set above them, flanked by Royal Guardsmen and crowned by the gilded metal representation of the Triforce and the song of the Royal Family.

Link and Zelda stood in an archway and saw themselves from the outside, and the Champions, but they were intimately aware of one another’s emotions in the moment.

_The Champions stood below the throne, assembled in front of a delegation of each of their attendants and warriors. In the center, the focal point of their semicircle of sky blue, stood the Princess. She kept her gaze affixed forward, her breaths carefully even and deep. She did not raise her eyes to her father, King Rhoam, where he stood above them all._

_Zelda had solemnly called each Champion forward from their delegation. They were already dressed in their new blue garments, and they approached her, took her hand, and bent the knee. Zelda was deeply hurt by Revali’s continued disregard for the seriousness of this ceremony, and th look in his eye was so utterly disinterested in anything but his own recognition. Daruk nearly fell over when he tried to stand from his genuflect, and Zelda froze herself from head to toe to avoid cringing on his behalf. Mipha gave her a brilliant, supportive smile when it was her turn, as if to say, ‘I_ know _how awkward these things are, but we’ll be done with it soon.’_

 _Urbosa, even on one knee, was nearly as tall as her. Her eyes were a little misty, and she mouthed something to Zelda that even Zelda could not pick up, but she_ felt _the motherly love wash over her even when Urbosa stood and returned to her spot._

_Then, Zelda turned her gaze to the small host of knights and guardsmen. She knew them each by name, and she knew that they were all Link’s men. His appearance was the most jarring, for she was accustomed to the way the other Champions dressed; it was not so unusual for Urbosa to wear a slash of blue in her skirt, or for Mipha to wear a sash. But this Royal Guardsman had always worn his uniform buttoned and pressed to perfection, collar as high as anything, white gloves pristine and starched, dark blue and bloody maroon like his father before him. Now he seemed even more a stranger, an outsider._

_Link had not known what to wear beneath the Champion’s tunic, and he had left the decision until the last moment. When the call came, he had put on his lightest mail and a long-sleeved gambeson embroidered in the style of his father’s hometown. His arm guards and bracers were also in the traditional style of his father’s village, for it had felt apt to bring honor upon the now-retired Grand Marshall. The tribute he made for his mother was more subtle, in the dagger he kept in his boot._

_“Link, son of Thom and Ellia, loyal servants of the King… Step forward.”_

_His blue gaze affixed hers as he approached, and she did not understand the way he looked at her. In fact, she was shocked at his audacity, or gall, to meet her eyes without the deference most of her men showed. The young man lowered himself elegantly to one knee and took her proffered hand lightly in his own. His gloves were warm, but something else passed between them—something like electricity._

_“What is your decision, Sword-Bearer?”_

_It was ironic that he was not allowed to bring his Sword into the Sanctum for this ceremony. He felt as though he had been deprived of a vital organ, but his pain was eased a little in the presence of the Princess. His gaze never wavered, determined to hide his own discomfort and anticipation in the moment. These were to be his first words to her in this life. He desperately wanted to speak volumes to her, to appeal to the connection he knew that she felt as well. He had so carefully practiced his reply, however, and his tongue did not stumble now, subject to her green eyes._

_“I am but a weapon of the Goddess and the Crown,” Link said. “My life, and my Sword, are at your service.”_

_Zelda was taken aback by the severity of his vow. Yet she was also practiced, and she would not be thrown. Certainly, not in front of the Sword-Bearer. “Captain, you wear the blue of my Champions, and as the Hylian Champion you shall serve. But I have also chosen you to be my_ own _Champion. Rise now, as my Chosen Knight.”_

_His hand slipped from hers. He stood, bowed, and returned to his place between Mipha and Urbosa._

_Thus named and presented to the watching courtiers, lords, and clerics, the Champions awaited their last address._

_“Welcome, warriors!” the king boomed. The acoustics of the Sanctum amplified his gruff voice, and it fell harshly on Link’s ears. His keen vision did not miss the Princess’s wince in his periphery. “I’d like to thank you for joining me here today, and for your bravery in accepting this…fateful task.”_

_The king looked out at each of them and caught each of their eyes. He had heard of their great accomplishments, their divine blessings and magic, and he had not-so-subtly requested their participation. In fact, he had all but accused Link with treason for obtaining the Sword and not immediately presenting it to the king._

_“I officially appoint you Hyrule’s Champions and bestow upon you this sacred garb. That blue is a symbol of the Royal Family, one that has been passed down through countless generations. Those garments you now wear were all crafted by my daughter, Zelda.”_

_She winced again, so very imperceptibly, as her father addressed her at last._

_“Zelda, I trust you with the task only a daughter of the Royal Family can fulfill.” Her padded shoulders hid, at least at a distance, how they bowed under the weight that had been placed upon them. “Lead our Champions, Princess. And together, protect our kingdom from the threat of Calamity Ganon.”_

_Zelda’s vision of the Sanctum faded, and the ravages of the Calamity reemerged from the mists of Time. But the golden light of her eyes did not fade, and as they turned up to Link, their glow washed over him and threw him back into his foggy memory of that day._

_Rhoam, always an ascetic, dismissed all of them shortly after. A mirror signal from the upper balcony initiated the firework display, and the cathedral bells rang out in the aftermath. The cacophony followed the Champions as they processed from the Sanctum. The four Pilots of the Divine Beasts walked shoulder-to-shoulder, but Link walked ahead of them. He had taken his place, as his mother and Impa had instructed him, three steps behind the Princess and one to the side._

_They followed Zelda as she walked down the main road. Every step she took was measured and solemn, but the further she was from her father, the higher her chin rose. When at last she led them to a stone gazebo far beyond the prying eyes of the court, she whirled on them—or at least Urbosa and Mipha—with renewed vigor._

_Urbosa put a hand on her shoulder, and Mipha began to speak softly to the Princess, but Link did not hear what was said, for Daruk had begun to stretch and crack his neck and knuckles with the volume of a landslide._

_“I tell ya, those formal shindigs really take it outta me,” he said, as though to appeal to Link’s upbringing as a rough-and-tumble Hyrulian Knight._

_Daruk clearly felt out of place among the elegant Champions. Though they were all warriors, and each could boast of many battles won, the Rito and Zora and Gerudo carried themselves with a grace and pride that dripped from their every movement. The Gorons were not so inclined, and it would be awkward even if they tried._

_Link offered him a quick smile, then tried to turn his attention back on the Princess. Years of training under his Royal Guardsman father and his Shiekah mother and aunt had instilled in him a laser focus, and he was determined to keep it on his new charge._

_Revali was scoffing at the Sheikah Slate, having plucked it callously from Zelda’s hands. He tossed it to Mipha, while Urbosa looked on with crossed arms and a cutting glare._

_“Princess, I think it would be wise to set a schedule for our training with the Divine Beasts,” Revali said. “Though I have already grown comfortable atop Medoh’s mighty shoulder, we should all plan to have full mastery of our automatons sooner rather than later.” He flicked one of his braids over his shoulder and gave Daruk a scathing glance._

_“What, as though the Calamity will adhere to your schedule, Revali?” Urbosa’s nostrils flared with distaste. “We will have time to discuss such things at another point in our stay in the capital. Now should be a time to get to know one another a little better and understand what deeds earned the king’s attention.”_

_Revali immediately launched into a laundry list of his accomplishments. Urbosa clapped sarcastically when he had finished “And you, Princess Mipha?”_

_“She will never tell you,” Zelda said with a teasing note in her voice. “The Zora Champion is far too modest, but that modesty and grace disguises the greatest Spear Maiden the Zora have seen! She has lead her soldiers against the scourge of a Hinox in Upland Zorana, and as potent as she is as a warrior, she is a powerful healer as well. Isn’t that right, Lady Mipha?”_

_Mipha buried her face in her hands. “That is so kind of you to say,” she squeaked. She peaked out behind her taloned fingers and looked at Daruk. “Speaking of Upland Zorana, I encountered travelers from Akkala who mentioned your bravery, Daruk.”_

_“Aw shucks.” Daruk rubbed the back of his neck, and his hard nails scritched beneath his white mane. “I’ve always felt called to protect the Mountain, and the Goddess seemed to like that. There was a stampede of lynels on the east side of the mountain, and I knew there were some little villages there, so I rolled on over and took care of that. Hasn’t been a lynel on the east side since!”_

_Revali seemed taken aback at the thought of taking on a lynel mano-a-mano. Link hoped that Daruk could read enough of the Rito’s body language to understand that he’d impressed the bird._

_“It seems we have all faced the forces of nature that roam the badlands of Hyrule,” said Urbosa. “It is tradition for Gerudo Chieftains to prove their mettle against the molduga that own the sands in the far reaches of the desert.” She looked down her nose at Revali, who had been soundly taken down a peg._

_Revali avoided her gaze and turned his now-weakened sneer to Link. The Hero allowed no sign of his annoyance to play across his face, and he did not even twitch his fingers in response. He knew Revali’s type well, and his father had taught him to deal with bullies long ago._

_“And why did the king choose this fellow, Princess? No Divine Beast has been excavated for the Hylians, as I understand it.”_

_Zelda’s mouth was suddenly glued shut while she tried to process how swiftly their camaraderie was falling apart and how to mend it—that was her responsibility, as their commander—but Urbosa had already decided that she would be the main combatant in this scuffle with Revali’s ego. “The Blade of Evil’s Bane called to the boy, tested him, and deemed him to possess unparalleled strength and courage,” the chieftain said coolly._

_“Did the Sword see him take down a talus, or perhaps a dragon?” Revali shot back._

_“That’s enough, Master Revali,” Zelda interjected. All eyes snapped back to their liege. Zelda had not spoken with the most commanding tone Link knew she was capable of, but this was close enough. She accepted the Slate back from Mipha and tucked it under her arm. “The power I am set to inherit is only said to seal the Calamity, should it resurface. Though the Divine Beasts may strike it down from afar, I am not trained in the art of war as you are—and I require a knight of great strength and courage to protect me while I use the Sealing Power.”_

_She turned to Link and offered him a small smile. “Son of a veteran Royal Guardsman and my mother’s own personal attendant, it has been known for years that this knight was the most talented, courageous, and selfless swordsman in Hyrule. The fact that he has been chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness is but another addition to a long list of accomplishments. Now, I must apologize, but as Daruk said—these formalities tax me much more than may be apparent. I think it is time that I retire.”_

_She smiled at all of them as the Champions bowed to her, but Link did not. He was not taking leave of her any time soon. He was the only one who saw the look of utter exhaustion and helplessness the Princess gave Urbosa as she passed the chieftain by._

_Link threaded his way through the genuflecting Champions and followed Zelda out of the gazebo, past the fountain, and toward her tower._

_“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked over her shoulder. He was taken aback at the ire in her voice, and he did not respond. He had intended to stand guard outside her room, to replace his mother as the night watch. It seemed the obvious course of action now that he had been appointed as her personal knight._

_The princess continued walking, unperturbed. Link watched her go until she disappeared around a bend._

_Urbosa’s approach was signaled by the jingling of the hammered gold pieces on her skirts. “I think that feathered fool is right about one thing,” she said. “Your role, besides wielding the Sword in the face of the Calamity, isn’t clear—to me, to the others, or to you.”_

_Link glanced up at her. “I have my orders,” he said quietly. He wished to stay and speak to the Gerudo Champion, but King Rhoam had been clear. As the Princess’s knight, he was personally responsible for her life, from that moment until the fall of the Calamity. And Sword or no Sword, Rhoam would send an army for his head should he fail._

 

Zelda’s grip was tight on his arm, as though she were concerned he might fall into the pit at the center of the Sanctum. But his memories had never swept him away as strongly as hers did, and he simply blinked away the fog in his vision. Then, he looked at Zelda.

Her eyes still warmed his skin, but their golden glow had faded. She blinked up at him. “I couldn’t even say your name,” she said shyly.

“And now you say it so often. Like this morning.”

He kept his face carefully schooled while she stared at him, open-mouthed, cheeks aflame. He couldn’t keep it up for long, mostly because he couldn’t resist kissing her when she looked so flustered. Link swept her off her feet in a swift motion, then backed away from the edge of the pit and retreated into the evening air with her in his arms.

“So we both can do it,” he observed as he carried her over to a stone outcropping. “Share thoughts. Feelings. Memories.”

“That must mean it’s not the Triforce. It has to be a power innate to us both.” She did not climb from his arms when he sat but rather slipped her arms under his and hugged him tightly. His warm, calloused hands held her tightly, so close to her skin through the thin fabric of her slip. A melancholy had lingered in her after using her power to share that memory with Link, and it ate at her from the inside out. She could not place where it had come from, but she felt that it was tied to the user of her power.

“I feel hollow,” she whispered to Link.

He rested his cheek upon her hair and looked down at her sidelong. He said nothing, but she felt something—perhaps it was a change in the pace of his breath, or perhaps it was this new connection they had opened between their hearts—in him that she recognized in herself.

With her head tucked against his chest, she could see every stitch of his tunic, a garment she herself had made. She stared at the white threads in the blue fabric so close to her face as she tried to put this feeling into words. She had embroidered each of the Champion’s garments and perfected her stitching until her fingernails were dented from her thimbles, and the pads of her fingers bled from running thread between them.

“Am I trying to be too many people at once, without knowing who they are?” she murmured. “What does it mean to be Hylia? How can I call myself Queen of Hyrule when being its princess made me so miserable? I don’t _really_ remember any of the lives I spent with you… I feel as though I’m a pretender. Yet I believe it so strongly. Yet…”

“You get to decide all of that. If there’s anything I’ve learned in this life, it’s that.” Link’s embrace tightened around her, and she sighed. “If you don’t know who Hylia is, if you don’t think you’d be happy as the kind of queen you were raised to be… Just embrace who you are, right now. Deal with every moment in a way that doesn’t leave you emptied out and left with nothing.”

Link lifted his head, and she raised her face to meet his eyes with her own. “I have gotten to know that girl pretty well by now,” he said. “She wants to protect the vulnerable. She wants to bring comfort to the despairing. She understands what it means to have a home and wants to give that to others. Is that the Goddess? Is that the Queen? It doesn’t matter. It’s you, Zelda.”

She kept his gaze for a moment longer, then dropped her head back down to his chest. He continued to tighten his hold on her, which she appreciated. She rather felt like melting, or coming apart at the seams.

“If I could snap my fingers and wish the kingdom restored to the days of my father…” She sighed. “I would be so miserable. But I can’t envision anything else.”

“Then don’t.”

Zelda frowned into his chest. “What?”

“Hold on to me.”

Link stood, and with one hand he thumbed the Sheikah Slate and whisked them away to their rooms. He landed atop one of their empty bags, and he set her down. “You’ll want something a little more adventurous,” he said.

“So we’re going somewhere?”

But Link would not say anything more. She begrudgingly put on trousers, a supportive camisole, and the Hylian tunic and leather armor she had received in Hateno.

They rematerialized out of the aura on a Travel Gate on a hill. It took her a little while to recognize it in the dark, but as she followed Link over the crest of the hill and she caught a glimpse of the towering castle on the horizon, Zelda realized they were on Salari Hill. Link led her by the hand down to Irch Plain, and their steps began to splash in a shallow lake that had formed over the years. The moon on the water made it seem like they were walking on ice, and it took her a moment to realize that not _all_ of the plain was covered in the same reflective surface.

Link and Zelda stepped out of the water and into a field of Silent Princesses.

They stretched as far as the eye could see, tall and healthy in the light of the moon. Their delicate crowns glowed with a gauzy white-blue halo, and they grew so thick that not even a patch of grass could be seen between them.

Zelda sank to her knees in them, and a cloud of their perfume wafted over her.

She had no words for this gift he had given her. Her heart was so full with pride and wonder and sheer awe at this miracle. A century ago, they had sat here and made flower crowns for one another and laughed together, and there had only been a single Silent Princess in the entire field. And now there was nothing but them, thriving, here in the wild.

Link knelt slowly beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.

“It took me a while to see life in the ruins of Hyrule, but it’s there,” Link said softly. “You need not imagine or shape how it will grow. Just protect it, like you said today, and see it is as it unfolds.”


End file.
